


Unchain the Heart

by bombshellbrunette



Series: glass houses [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Has A Palace, Assumed Character Death, Canon Divergence, Heavy Angst, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:49:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombshellbrunette/pseuds/bombshellbrunette
Summary: Even the feeblest existence can gain tremendous power once the chains on its heart are broken.





	1. overture

**Author's Note:**

> hello! so anyone who read my previous entry in this series (read: the pwp i wrote on a whim) might know that i added a note in a few days later, which promised that a series following the events of the first fic would be produced. and, lo and behold, here we are! this is my attempt at an akechi palace au!! now, i have to give credit to [Ode Imaginations' incredible akechi palace theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=meaQArEzJxs). it was absolutely the inspiration behind this fic.  
> i'm so excited about this, and i hope you guys are too!!!  
> also – I TRIED SO HARD TO GET THIS OUT FOR GORO'S BIRTHDAY!! proof of justice ruined my life already and im so excited about this tbh  
> -millie<3

Being a member of the illustrious Phantom Thieves, as it turned out, was exhausting. This wasn’t entirely surprising to Goro – they had a reputation for working expediently, after all, and if his personal calculations proved correct, most of their infiltrations were carried out within a single month. Still, days on end of exploring and fighting on top of carrying out Shido’s orders were taking their toll on him. He’d barely managed to get back to his apartment last night at all, and had woken up after a grand total of two hours of sleep with a migraine that had him gritting his teeth throughout his daily interviews.

Suppressing a grimace, Goro looked up at the other members of the group, who were all resting on some surface in the Safe Room. He wondered whether they usually functioned like this, endlessly pressing onwards with little concern for rest or recuperation, or whether it was merely his presence that spurred them to action. Of course, he often worked under similar conditions himself, but somehow he doubted that the Thieves’ beloved leader would truly subject his teammates to such a difficult life.

It didn’t particularly matter either way. There was no point taking note of the Phantom Thieves’ daily habits now that they were so close to being destroyed. It was early November now, and Shido’s plan was set to be carried out in only two weeks’ time. Then Joker would be dead and the others would be despondent, rendered completely unable proceed without his guidance.

“Akechi,” interrupted Kitagawa, irritation seeping into his tone. “We’re discussing how to proceed, if you care to join us.”

The sound of Kitagawa’s voice shook Goro out of his thoughts, and he sat up a little straighter, letting a polite smile fall on his lips. “My apologies,” said Goro, folding his gloved hands neatly in his lap. “I myself was merely considering our progress. We’ve made it quite far in such a short amount of time. You really are an impressive organization.”

“Regardless,” said Niijima, red eyes glinting from under her mask, “we should continue at least until we reach the next Safe Room. We still have to reach the next floor if we want to change onee-chan’s heart anytime soon.”

Okumura looked like she wanted to object, but remained silent, eyes darting between Niijima and the similarly quiet Kurusu. Her reticence was to be expected – she was the newest member of the Phantom Thieves, and the least qualified to attempt strategic analysis.

“I think we should stop for today,” said Kurusu firmly after a few seconds of strained silence. “Ryuji’s practically asleep, and I can hear Ann’s stomach from a mile away. We can regroup tomorrow to deal with the slot games.”

Takamaki swatted at his arm playfully, grumbling something about _dumb teenage boys_ and _rudeness,_ and Sakamoto merely lifted a thumbs up in acknowledgement, but their relief was palpable. That confirmed Goro’s earlier suspicion, then: they really were working on overdrive to try and get this over with as soon as possible.

Niijima bit her lip, clearly holding back her protests. Goro hadn’t anticipated how eager she would be to infiltrate the casino, but he supposed it wasn’t all that odd. She and Sae-san were siblings, despite how cold their relationship obviously was. Clearly that meant something to the younger of the two.

“Mako-chan,” said Okumura gently, taking a step forward to rest a reassuring hand on Niijima’s shoulder. “You’re wearing yourself out. After all, you have your duties at school, and your entrance exams are coming up. Sae-san wouldn’t want you to work yourself too hard for her sake.”

Niijima sighed, relaxing under Okumura’s touch. “Fine,” she relented. “We all need rest, especially those of us who lead double lives, like our Akechi.”

Goro barely managed to stop from curling his lip in disgust. If only Niijima knew the depth of his duality – he wasn’t their agent, but he wasn’t quite a double agent, either. He was helping Shido at the moment as a matter of convenience, that was all. As soon as his power hungry father ascended to the position of Prime Minister, Goro would snatch the rug from under him and send him sprawling on the cold, hard concrete. “Quite right,” he said instead, chuckling warmly. “It’s quite amusing to look back on my prior public comments about the Phantom Thieves from the standpoint of a member, albeit only a temporary one.”

Kurusu looked over at him, dark eyes heavy and swollen with memories. The unexpected eye contact sent a jolt of arousal through Goro’s body as he recalled how Kurusu had teased him during their rendezvous a few days ago. _No,_ he thought, jerking his gaze away from Kurusu’s. It would never happen again. It _could_ never happen again. And Goro didn’t want it to, anyways. They’d fucked once – depraved, angry, desperate – to get it out of their systems, and now it was gone, hidden under layers of mutual distrust and opposing agendas.

“Yeah, I’d bet,” said Sakamoto loudly, swinging his arm around Kurusu’s neck. “And meanwhile, _this_ dude’s busy seducing every woman in Japan. Who’s up for tonight, bro? Kawakami-sensei?”

Goro’s eyes unwittingly darted back to Kurusu, but the other boy was looking at Sakamoto, mouth scrunched up in amusement.

“Not seducing, Ryuji,” said Kurusu, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Shame on you. What Kawakami-sensei and I do together is very pure. I even offered to wear a matching maid outfit in solidarity.”

The other Thieves erupted in laughter at this with the exception of Kitagawa, whose expression erred on the side of mystified. At the sight of him, Wakaba Isshiki’s daughter – it was hard to think of her as anything else – laughed even harder, keeled over with uncontrollable giggles.

Goro felt, ridiculously, excluded. He had no interest in establishing a rapport with people who would all be dead by his own hand within the next year, but their laughter bothered him. Kurusu’s smiling face, which Goro so rarely saw and had almost never caused, bothered him.

“On that note,” said Niijima, rolling her eyes fondly at her collapsed teammates, “let’s get going. Kawakami-sensei  has to be up early next morning, so let’s not keep her waiting any longer.”

“Yes,” said Goro bitterly, getting to his feet without hesitation. “Let’s.”

 

**~♡♡♡~**

 

_Phantom_ _Thieves_

> **Futaba:** we’re getting pretty close to the end date of the phantom thieves huh
> 
> **Makoto:** …Yeah, I suppose. Hmm.
> 
> **Futaba:** it feels so weird
> 
> **Futaba:** i havent been on the team for that long but it feels like a family yknow???
> 
> **Futaba:** man thats awkward sorry
> 
> **Haru:** No, I definitely understand how you feel Futaba-chan!!
> 
> **Haru:** I’ve been on the team for the shortest amount of time, but I still feel like I’m losing something really important to me... We'll still stay friends tho!!!
> 
> **Ann:** o yea ofc haru-chan!!!!
> 
> **Ann:** but yeah... its feels like its been forever since we took down kamoshida tho i guess it was really only a few months ago
> 
> **Ann:** & akira's going to go home, too…
> 
> **Akechi:** I apologize for imposing this deadline on you so abruptly, but it was a matter of scheduling that was completely out of my control.
> 
> **Akechi:** Nevertheless, I do wish you had more time to give your group a proper farewell.
> 
> **Yusuke:** …

Akira withdrew his buzzing phone from his pocket, and sighed when he saw the slew of messages scrolling down his screen.  There were a few stray texts continuing one-on-one conversations with friends, but the vast majority of the messages clogging his inbox came from the Phantom Thieves' group message and the other, Akechi-free group Futaba had created upon his joining the main chat. Most of the texts in both groups were discussing plans for infiltrating Sae's casino, but reading through the mocking messages his teammates had sent about Akechi made a sick feeling coagulate in the pit of his stomach. Rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance, Akira scrolled down the chat, brows furrowing as he continued.

 _ (Better) Phantom Thieves _ 

> **Futaba:** i keep forgetting akechis on that chat lmao
> 
> **Futaba:** god he’s so arrogant!!! grrr!!!!!!!!!! i just wanna punch his stupid face!!!!
> 
> **Ryuji:** For real
> 
> **Ryuji:** I cant even type in the othr one bc he makes me so fucking mad
> 
> **Ryuji:** Sayin all this shit abt feeling bad abt making us disband when he wants 2 kill Akira nywayz
> 
> **Yusuke:** Akechi is certainly laying it on quite thick.
> 
> **Ann:** seeing him being so friendly is so weird now that we know what hes planning
> 
> **Ann:** how do u spend time with him again????
> 
> **Ann:** and boss 2. he’s always hanging around @ leblanc
> 
> **Futaba:** i wish i could use nepotism to kick him out but i think sojiro would say no>:(

Akira typed out a response, deleted it, and retyped it. For a few seconds he stared at the stagnant screen, waiting for someone to change the topic so he wouldn’t have to intervene, but when no one did, he pressed the 'send' button and watched as his reply popped up in the sequence of messages. Usually he'd refrain from saying anything, but after what had happened between them a few days ago, simply letting his friends talk badly about Akechi felt wrong, somehow. 

> **Akira:** I dont mind being around him
> 
> **Akira:** Seriously.
> 
> **Haru:** Akira-kun, you really do try to see the best in everyone **♡**
> 
> **Haru:** But Akechi-kun killed my father & Futaba’s mother, and is now trying to kill you…
> 
> **Makoto:** ^^ As Haru says, you’re being too kind. Akechi is a murderer...

Akira's bedroom was silent save for the sound of his own breathing, but he could feel Makoto's righteous anger even from his secluded spot in Leblanc. He knew she was just defending Haru, but something about the brevity of her message annoyed him. Still, he owed her some kind of an apology. He stared at her text, considering what to say, then replied: 

> **Akira:** Sorry Haru, Futaba. I was being inconsiderate of your feelings

He swiped out of the messaging app in frustration, dropping his phone to the bed when he was done. This whole situation was infinitely too complicated for his liking. He had known about the murder scheme when he fucked Akechi over Leblanc’s counter, and before, too. He’d been intimately aware of the details of Akechi’s past crimes, in fact, perpetuated not only against his hypothetical future self but also to people who were important to his teammates, who he was hypothetically trying to avenge.

There was something inexplicable that attracted him to Akechi, though, and when he’d seen Akechi so clever and coy and victorious delivering his speech at the Culture Festival, Akira had wanted nothing more to fuck him right then and there, and the more they'd spent time together afterwards – at the arcade, at the jazz club, playing billiards – the more he needed it. There was nothing he could say that could possibly excuse what he’d done or justify the strange gravity of their connection. He fucked Akechi because he wanted to, and if the other boy came to him for more, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

The guilt that accompanied that particular thought was bitter, and Akira grabbed his phone to send a few parting messages before he fell into what he already knew would be a restless sleep. 

> **Akira:** I’m turning in for the night
> 
> **Akira:** We can talk about our plans for infiltration @ Leblanc tmm
> 
> **Futaba:** gnite akira!!
> 
> **Yusuke:** Goodnight, Akira.
> 
> **Ann:** night **♡**
> 
> **Ryuji:** Nite dude!
> 
> **Makoto:** Goodnight.
> 
> **Haru:** Night!!!! (^––^)

**~♡♡♡~**

 

Goro hated the Diet building. He'd built up a resistance to it over the past several years of regular visitation, but every time he went up the sterile, corporate elevator that led to Shido's office, his hands trembled with anger no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. It loomed large over the surrounding neighborhood, well-guarded fences barricading the general public from the high and mighty legislators who dwelt within, and the columns caging the front door gave the building all the appearance of an ancient temple. Shido didn't deserve to inhabit this revered home of justice. He didn't even deserve to step foot anywhere in its vicinity. 

 _Then again,_ he thought, staring at the illuminated buttons as the elevator ascended to Shido's floor.  _Neither do I._

He had been dropping by more frequently than usual over the course of the past few weeks. Shido demanded regular updates on the infiltration of Sae's palace, and while Goro was perfectly content to text, he preferred seeing his father's reactions in person instead of being forced to gather his meaning from short phone calls and messages. There was no pleasure in being by his side, but Shido's face was expressive in its cruelty; Goro always knew exactly what methods to employ in his various tasks when the orders were personally relayed.

With a bright ping the elevator opened, and Goro stepped out into the hallway. He walked briskly, weaving through the various legislators milling around the floor, and stopped in front of Shido's door. It was just as unassuming as the other legislators' offices, but he knew that the man who lurked within had the majority of the building in his pocket. If all went well, he'd be a shoo-in for Prime Minister in the upcoming election.

Raising his hand to the door, he knocked loudly, and pasted a polite smile onto his mouth. Within a few seconds Shido opened it and beckoned for Goro to enter, closing it firmly shut when they were both inside. "So what of the infiltration?" he asked immediately, striding back over to his chair. 

 _Not in the mood to mince words, then._ "It's progressing rapidly," said Goro, approaching Shido's ornate desk. "They don't enjoy cooperating with me, but their lack of trust works to our benefit. The sooner we finish infiltration, the sooner we can start preparations to ensure that our plan unfolds without a hitch."

Shido nodded his approval, a pleased smile settling on his lips. "Excellent work, Akechi," he said. "You've orchestrated this whole thing with impressive finesse. You've truly flourished under my influence. Now, though I trust you'll continue your infiltration with the Phantom Thieves, I have another task for you to complete in the meantime."

Goro winced internally, but forced his features to remain impassive. He barely had time to eat and sleep these days, and adding yet another mission to his schedule would undoubtedly limit that time further. There was no way to resist, though; claims of exhaustion wouldn't dissuade Shido in the slightest. In fact, they might even spur him on. Shido liked overworking him to his breaking point and pulling back at the last possible moment. Goro suspected it was one of the reasons he had so many tasks to complete in the first place.

"Your target is a former associate of Isshiki Wakaba's research lab named Sakura Sojiro," continued Shido when Goro remained silent. "I'm sure you're aware of him – he's harboring two of the Phantom Thieves at the moment in his coffee shop in Yongen-Jaya. He's surely providing them with lodging and equipment that has proven vital to their success."

Cold hands gripped Goro's heart. He knew exactly who Shido was referring to, of course – Goro had spoken with Sakura Sojiro many times in the past, pleasant conversations that made his evenings in Leblanc all the more enjoyable. On the surface he was gruff, but after having witnessed firsthand his interactions with Sakura Futaba and Kurusu it was obvious how much he cared for them. He was completely innocent, and had been nothing but kind to Goro himself despite how often he lingered in the café without purchasing anything after hours.

"Of course, you'll have to wait with this particular task," said Shido. "But after we've executed their leader, killing Sakura will be the final nail in the coffin for the Phantom Thieves. Their operation will be finished."

"But wouldn't that seem suspicious?" protested Goro, regulating his tone as much as was possible. Even he heard the desperation leaking through his words, though, and without a doubt Shido had noticed it too. _Shit_. "The death of his ward and then him in immediate succession? I–– it won't be necessary to get rid of Sakura after Joker is out of the way. The Phantom Thieves will already be incapacitated beyond repair."

Shido's pleasant smile mutated into a scowl. "Are you saying  _no_?" he asked.

Goro could hear the threat behind his words, and scrambled to recover. "Not at all, Shido-san," he replied quickly. "I was just clarifying your intent, sir – I would never doubt your decisions."

"Good," said Shido. "Because you know very well what happens when you cross me. I want Sakura dead by the end of the month, no questions." He paused, watching as Goro stood, frozen in place, by the door. "You're dismissed. I'm a busy man, Akechi. Don't waste my time."

Goro bowed slightly, and slipped out of the office. His stomach was churning unpleasantly, and he felt the beginnings of an intense migraine taking shape in his mind. Killing Sakura Sojiro… It was surely a test from Shido. He knew just as well as Goro that without their leader the Thieves would be nothing, yet he wanted Sakura dead regardless? There was no reasoning. The only possible question would be whether Goro was capable of murdering someone so close to the Phantom Thieves without remorse.

When he was a sufficient distance from the Diet building, Goro finally let his mask slip. He murdered innocents regularly, but this particular task would be unimaginably painful. Sakura was the closest he had to a guardian now, looking after he and the other Phantom Thieves like they were his own children. If Goro truly were a regular member of the team, he was sure Sakura would take him under his wing without question.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Goro withdrew his phone from his pocket. He needed to start planning his route to Sakura's Shadow sooner rather than later. The longer he waited, the harder it would be. Scrolling past the first screen of his phone, he searched his screen for the MetaNav. It was the sole flair he had other than the bare requirements and his chatting app. When he moved to touch it, he frowned. The color had dulled from its usual vibrant red to a dull grey, and it wasn't reacting to his finger. Reaching within himself, he searched for the traces of Robin Hood and Loki, but they were pointedly absent. Panic began to set in as he mashed the app with his thumb with increasing intensity, and when it still remained traitorously silent he dropped his phone to the ground like it had burned him.

He couldn't access the Metaverse. Something was blocking him out of it, had stolen his Personas and rendered him useless. 

What was he supposed to do now? 

**~♡♡♡~**

 

The next day in Leblanc was tense. Though Makoto didn't seem angry, per se, she was watching Akira more intently than usual from her place next to Haru on the other side of the table.

"So," he began, ignoring her piercing stare. "We've been working faster than usual so we can set up for intercepting Akechi's plan. I know this pace is a little brutal – is everyone okay?"

Ryuji groaned, burying his head in his arms. "I haven't slept in forever, dude," he complained, yawning exaggeratedly to complement his words. "I feel like I'm gonna fall on my ass like every minute."

"Oh shush, Ryuji," chided Ann, though her eyes were twinkling with humor. "You're just saying that 'cause you play games all night long."

Rolling her eyes at the banter, Futaba said matter-of-factly, "I think everyone's okay, pretty much. It's not like we haven't worked hard in the past." She paused, then added, "Besides, it's for a good cause – we're not gonna let you die! We don't have a healer in our party who can revive you if you die for real!"

"Futaba is right," agreed Yusuke. "Though Ryuji might say otherwise, none of our lives have been interrupted by this infiltration more than any other. Working with Akechi is the strangest thing about this palace by far."

Makoto sighed, leaning into Haru's shoulder. "You can say that again," she said grumpily. "He's like a leech. Every minute he's trying to worm closer to us, probably in a misguided effort to obtain information."

They were all silent, commiserating over Akechi's influence on their group, when Sojiro poked his head into Akira's attic bedroom. "I made everyone coffee," he said, gesturing for them to follow him downstairs into the main café area. "You're all too tired for teenagers. It's making me miserable just looking at you."

Thankful for the escape route presented to him, Akira jogged downstairs, the other Thieves gradually trailing behind him. They settled at the bar, each grabbing a coffee off the tray and enjoying their drinks in comfortable silence. Sojiro, standing behind the bar, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Leblanc filled with the soft noise of a popular talk show and Sojiro retreated into the kitchen, leaving the Phantom Thieves alone and free to discuss their plans.

"Hey guys, look," said Ann, pointing at the hosts. "They're introducing Akechi! I guess that's what he's doing instead of meeting with us. He really is popular, huh?"

“He's inescapable these days,” said Makoto, taking a sip of her coffee before she continued. “Akechi-kun’s _everywhere_. I wonder what his rationale is for doing all these interviews – it’s not like the Diet actually needs him to be popular in order to use him. He already destroyed our reputation.”

Futaba opened her mouth, seemingly on the verge of replying, when whatever she was about to say was thwarted by the metallic voice of the MetaNav.

_"Candidate found."_

 

 


	2. cue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall!! thank you so much for the response to the first chapter!! reading ur comments has been so much fun, and i'm a slut for validation. i can't wait to see what everyone thinks of this one!!  
> with that in mind, have funnnn  
> -millie

The room was quiet for a moment as all the Thieves sat in stunned silence, staring at Akira’s phone like it would explode if anyone dared move towards it.

“How is… How is that possible?” asked Makoto, red eyes wide in bewilderment. “From what you told us, Morgana, once someone manifests a Persona their Shadow shouldn’t technically exist anymore. Right?”

“…Yeah,” answered Morgana, leaping onto the counter from his perch on the stool next to Ann. “I don’t like this. If Akechi’s manifested a palace, that means we’re getting the principle behind Shadows wrong, or––”

“Or he lost his Persona altogether,” finished Akira soberly. “That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”

Ryuji slammed his fist onto the countertop, making Haru flinch in surprise. “I never understood this mumbo jumbo in the first place, but what the hell? If this bastard has a palace, what the fuck happened between yesterday and today? We were _just_ fighting along with him!”

Futaba frowned, drawing her legs to her chest and looping her thin arms around them protectively. “In my case, there were feelings that festered over _years,_ ” she explained. “Probably it’s a similar situation for Akechi, though there was obviously some catalyst that set him off, otherwise he would’ve had a palace before.”

“More to the point,” said Yusuke, looking to Akira, “what are we going to do about it? Joker, are we–– will we attempt to change Akechi’s heart?”

Akira wished for a moment, bizarrely, that someone else were the leader of the Phantom Thieves. It was his responsibility to decide which endeavors to undertake and which to ignore, and as he stared this task the face – the palace of his rival or lover or friend or enemy – he wanted someone else to make the final decision for once. But that was impossible. Directing the Phantom Thieves was his job, and his alone. “I… need some time,” he said finally, averting his eyes to the TV screen to avoid seeing the reactions of his teammates. Akechi was laughing, but the expression looked as hollow as Akira felt watching him. “I’ll decide by tomorrow. If Akechi really can’t use his Persona, we won’t be able to continue infiltrating the casino alongside him regardless of what we ultimately want to do. We’ll have to plan around that.”

Makoto nodded, though she still looked disconcerted. “Right. I think waiting to see how he acts around us is the best course of action before we make any kind of decisions about infiltrating his palace. Besides, just logistically it might be a problem – we should finish nee-chan’s before we even _start_ Akechi’s.”

Ann crossed her legs and rested her head on her forearms, brows drawn together severely on her forehead. She’d been quiet for a little while, which was unlike her – she was generally one of the more cheerful members of the Thieves, even in times of distress.

“Yo, Ann, y’alright?” asked Ryuji before Akira could even try, tone laced with concern. He nudged her gently, shooting her an encouraging smile when she raised her head. “Wassup? C’mon, tell your best buddy Ryuji.”

Ann’s blue eyes flickered down to her nails, frowning at the chipped red polish like it had personally offended her. “It’s really nothing,” she muttered, sighing. “This just sucks, that’s all. Having to worry about Akechi _and_ Sae-san, especially when we know there’s some mastermind behind everything – it’s a bit overwhelming, y’know?”

Haru nodded sympathetically, relinquishing Makoto’s hand to give Ann’s knee a reassuring squeeze. “I completely understand,” she said. “I’m sure everyone else feels the same way. Certainly I know I’ve been overwhelmed recently. But Ann-chan… if you ever need a friend to talk to, there’s no one who can understand better than a fellow Phantom Thief, right?”

Glossy pink lips curving into a smile, Ann looked up at Haru. “Yeah,” she said, bright eyes glittering. “Haru, you’re a godsend!”

Haru giggled, shaking her head in denial even as Makoto nudged her shoulder. “She’s right, you know,” murmured Makoto, smiling softly when Haru’s cheeks flushed a deep red.

Ann tipped her head back to stare up at the plastic stars scattered across Akira’s ceiling. She stayed there for a moment, eyes narrowed in concentration, then clapped her hands suddenly. “That’s it!” she announced, leaping to her feet to address the other Thieves. “We totally need some quality group time, so why don’t we go on a little field trip to take our minds off all this bad stuff? How ‘bout an official Phantom Thieves meetup at the planetarium tomorrow?”

Yusuke rubbed his chin in thought. “The one in Ikebukuro?” he asked, a pleased smile taking shape on his face as he considered the idea. “I always find new inspiration when I spend time there…”

“Sounds dope,” concurred Ryuji, kicking his feet up onto the table. “I’m in.”

“We were _just_ talking about our time crunch, and now we’re taking a break?” said Makoto, crossing her arms over her chest. “As our official strategist, I can’t say I agree with this plan. There’s plenty of time for trips to the planetarium when we’re done with the infiltration.”  
“Infiltration _s_ ,” corrected Morgana, slinking from the bed onto Akira’s lap. “But I agree. Joker, we don’t have _that_ much time to think about this. The deadline for Sae-san’s palace is approaching soon, and if we have to change Akechi’s heart by that date as well, then…”

“I get it,” said Akira, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. “We’re confronting a lot right now. But Ann is right – if we keep going like this, we’re ultimately going to do worse. Running on empty is just going to make us more vulnerable out there.”

Ann shot him a thumbs up from her seat on the couch, and Morgana gave him what was presumably the cat equivalent of a shrug, curling into himself and tickling Akira’s arm with the tip of his tail.

Futaba hummed softly under her breath, typing away at her computer. When she realized the room had gone silent, she looked up at the rest of the Thieves, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?” she said, exasperated. “I’m busy. Important work to do. Shoo, gremlins!”

Yusuke snorted, earning himself a slap on the wrist from Ann, and Ryuji turned to join in on the fun, jostling the people sitting near him in his attempt to elbow the both of them. Haru was whispering something in Makoto’s ear, fiddling with a bouncy strand of hair all the while, and Futaba was still working, hunched over her computer screen. Within a matter of seconds, all semblance of organization or professionalism had been lost to petty infighting.

 _Not that we were professional in the first place, but jeez_ , thought Akira, surveying the room. _We’re a mess._ He let out a sigh, massaging his temples to suppress the oncoming headache. _Don’t lose your cool. Come on_. “Alright, meeting adjourned,” he said loudly, gesturing to the forlorn open sign hanging down Leblanc’s shiny red door. “We’re getting nowhere. Anyone who doesn’t want to go to the planetarium tomorrow can do recon on their own, but no one’s going into either of the palaces tomorrow. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, Joker,” replied Makoto, gritting her teeth even as she forced a smile. “Message received.”

 

 

**~♡♡♡~**

 

It took just under two days for Goro to slow down his search. He’d allocated a full twenty four hours of no sleep and no food to tracking down his lost powers, but his body was failing now, vision blurred and stomach clenching painfully. It was too reckless to continue acting out of desperation, even for someone like Goro. The most important thing now was to maintain an air of normalcy, so running calmly through the motions of Akechi Goro’s daily life was his new and improved plan of action. Smile through countless interviews, keep up with Shido, pretend to be occupied with other matters in front of the Phantom Thieves. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And yet. It was impossible to be Akechi Goro, really, because without his Personas that meant nothing. The identity that he flaunted in public – the facade of the charismatic detective prince, the orphan-cum-genius who rose above countless challenges to endless triumph – was merely an act. The true self that lay within was rooted in Loki and Robin Hood, dual sides to the same corroded coin. And now they were lost, too, stolen in the blink of an eye by an unknown force, which had given him the power to ascend almost to glory and then decided to kick him back down into the dirt.

Goro had attempted to find his Personas through every means possible. He’d trudged through the city into the early morning in pursuit of all possible avenues Metaverse access within his grasp, spoken to some of Shido’s more obscure contacts under the pretense that he was working under his father’s orders, and had even conducted his own limited research on the cognitive world based on his knowledge of Isshiki Wakaba’s work. But there was no solution he could find – the only access point to the Metaverse was through the phone app and his own was helplessly defunct, though still present on his barren screen.

He hadn’t dared take the day off for fear of rousing Shido’s suspicions after his slip-up yesterday, but now as he sat at the kitchen table in his barren apartment, picking at the leftovers of a frozen meal from a few nights ago and reviewing his notes, he felt stir crazy. He generally appreciated the convenience of his lodgings, located on the Ginza line with an easy commute to school, the Diet, and the station, but now it served as a reminder of all he had to lose. If Goro failed to retrieve his Personas, this life – his clean, useful apartment and all the implications that came with it – would be destroyed.

Slamming his notebook shut, Goro jumped to his feet, pacing around the room. He needed to get out of Akihabara before it drove him insane. The fluorescent lights of his kitchen cast him in harsh relief, and when he caught a glimpse of himself in the window, he winced. His face was lean and haggard, worsened by the thick dark circles under his eyes. No Shibuya or Shinjuku, then – too many potential fans. Inevitably they’d take photos that would end up online for Shido and his associates to see.

There was one place where Goro was sure he wouldn’t be found. It was obscure, in a quiet neighborhood, discrete – and, more importantly, he was a regular customer. The jazz club and billiards would be too suspicious, too obvious. Kichijouji was popular with people his age late at night, but this place… It was a refuge of tranquility. No one from the outside world would be able to locate him.

It would be a risky move, going to Leblanc. Though Goro found the phrase lacking in clarity, “it’s complicated” was the best descriptor his tired mind could conjure for his situation. He wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms, at least not anymore, but he found himself gathering his wallet and other necessities into his briefcase and slipping out of his apartment anyways, already en route to the train station.

Before he knew it, he was resting his cheek against the clean plastic, observing his fellow passengers with detached caution. It was a relatively short journey to Yongen-Jaya, but he needed to remain vigilant regardless. Someone could always be watching from the shadows.

 

 **~♡♡♡~**  

> **Futaba** : uhhhh houston we’ve got a problem
> 
> **Futaba:** hellooooo?????? brother mine??????
> 
> **Futaba:** akira!!!!! i know ur awake its 9pm!!! stop watching featherman reruns and answer ur texts!!!
> 
> **Akira:** Whats up
> 
> **Akira:** Also I’m pretty sure you’re watching them too lol
> 
> **Akira:** Actually I’m 100% sure
> 
> **Futaba:** i mean like. yeah
> 
> **Futaba:** but thats beside the point my dude my man
> 
> **Futaba:** nywayz we seriously have a red alert on our hands
> 
> **Akira:**??
> 
> **Futaba:** i just saw akechi crossing one of the backstreets
> 
> **Futaba:** hes heading over to leblanc like,,, now
> 
> **Akira:** Oh ok
> 
> **Futaba:** well that was a bit understated
> 
> **Futaba:** akira my bro do u remember the whole yknow
> 
> **Futaba:** PALACE THING????????? yknow that whole HUGE SCARY THING????
> 
> **Akira:** Oh
> 
> **Akira:** Dw I wont say anything obviously, I’ve got this
> 
> **Akira:** He comes here a lot anyways so I’m used to it by now
> 
> **Futaba:** :/
> 
> **Akira:** Seriously it’ll b fine. Akechis harmless rn
> 
> **Futaba:** i mean *alright* if u say so
> 
> **Futaba:** jsut be careful ok???:/
> 
> **Futaba:** *just
> 
> **Akira:** K, I will:)

Akira dropped the phone face down on the counter next to his nearly full mug of coffee, resisting the urge to scream. He wanted very much to see Akechi, but their relationship was messy, complicated even further by the revelation of Akechi’s palace. Keeping the palace’s existence a secret in theory wouldn’t be challenging, but Akechi had always had a knack for wearing down his restraint.  Akira would have to be cautious, then, but not cautious enough to make Akechi suspicious that he was hiding something. _Excellent._

Equally frustrating was the excitement welling in his stomach. Spending too much time alone with Akechi when everything was up in the air would ultimately make the sting of his inevitable betrayal more painful, but the thought of a few more stolen hours of harmless fun was painfully alluring. It was an impossible friendship, unsustainable and founded on a base of lies, but it _existed._ Kind of.

Akira’s thoughts were interrupted by the jangling of the bells signaling the arrival of a new customer. Steeling himself for whatever he was about to see, he tied his apron in the back and looked up from the murky depths of his coffee cup.

In the red doorway stood Akechi, dressed in a sloppier version of his normal school uniform. His face was pale, and deep bags lined his eyes, so dark and round they looked like bruises. His expression was perfectly polite, but shaky – the edges of his smiling mouth were wobbly, imperceptible to a normal observer but obvious to Akira, who cared so much it hurt.

“Hello,” said Akechi, shutting the door behind him. “I hope I’m not intruding. I thought the café would be closed by now, though I’m certainly not upset that you’ve extended hours.”

“We haven’t,” said Akira carefully, coming out from behind the counter to sit on the stool next to Akechi’s usual place. His sudden movement prompted Akechi to follow suit, and then they were sitting side by side, shoulders so close they were almost brushing. “I just forgot to turn the sign around, that’s all. Boss would be pissed.”

“Oh,” said Akechi, surprised. He drew his bag closer to his chest and began, “If it’s preferable, I can find somewhere else to––”

“Nah,” interrupted Akira, waving him off. “You usually stay after hours anyway. I’ve gotten used to it by now.”

Akechi looked sort of taken aback by this, but he didn’t follow the line of inquiry. Instead, eyes drifting to Akira’s phone on the wooden counter, he said casually, “Now that I’m here, I might as well deliver the bad news. I’m afraid I’ll be quite busy during these next few weeks, with limited availability for infiltration if any at all. There’s been an influx of new cases at the station and my aid has proven essential to the detectives in the precinct, so I’ve been informed on no uncertain terms that I must participate.”

Ah, so there it was. An excuse out of left field, and a plausible one that would be difficult for the Phantom Thieves to investigate to boot. This was confirmation of Akira’s previous theory, then – Akechi really had lost his Personas.

“I see,” replied Akira, equally casually. “That’s unfortunate timing. I thought you were just beginning to fit in with our group, as well.”

Though it was subtle, Akira would’ve sworn that Akechi almost flinched. “Is that so?” he said, tapping his fingers on the countertop. “I wasn’t aware that your teammates appreciated my presence.”

“Maybe not,” admitted Akira honestly, earning a bitter chuckle from Akechi. “But I do, Akechi. I’m going to miss you.”

Akechi’s soft brown eyes flashed with some sort of emotion, gone in a flash before Akira could parse it out. His long lashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones as his eyes fluttered to a close and he took in a deep breath. Even like this, exhausted and gaunt in the dimly lit café, he was beautiful. “I see,” he said at last, almost gravely. “Well.”

“Well,” answered Akira teasingly, reaching out a hand to squeeze Akechi’s taut shoulder.

“Well,” finished Akechi, looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes. He melted into Akira’s grip, tongue darting out to sweep across his bottom lip, and sighed.

Resisting temptation was not Akira’s forte, and a sweet, submissive Akechi was an oasis to Akira’s desert. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Akechi’s, savoring the shudder that went through the other boy’s body at first contact. He pulled away after a few seconds, wanting desperately to see how Akechi would react. There was a strained pause, tense and electric, before Akechi wound his arms around Akira’s shoulders and dragged him in for a real kiss.

There was no intention behind it, only soft acknowledgement and mutual comfort. It wasn’t angry, or violent. For a brief moment, Akira could pretend that they were a real couple, sharing a romantic moment after a hard day. When they finally separated, putting a respectable distance between them, the look on Akechi’s face suggested that he’d had the same thought.

But that dream was impossible. He and Akechi were on opposite sides of a war, one that threatened the justice Akira and the rest of the Phantom Thieves were fighting to protect. A normal relationship? Such a convenient miracle could never happen.

“So,” said Akira with finality, hopping to his feet with about as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “Coffee?”

 

**~♡♡♡~**

 

Surprisingly, everyone showed up at the designated meetup spot in front of the planetarium the next day. Akira was sure that Haru had wheedled Makoto into agreeing, but her presence put him at ease nonetheless. There were undeniable tensions within the group, as there always had been, but at least they could come together for things like this.

His teammates were boisterous, per usual. Ryuji and Ann were talking about the food court with thinly veiled anticipation, Yusuke was looking the building up and down thoughtfully, and Futaba was typing something on her phone. Makoto and Haru were standing close, silent but seemingly content. Even Morgana poked his head out of the bag, yelping a quick, “You’re beautiful as always, Lady Ann!” before burrowing himself back inside. It was a thankful respite from the weirdness that had set upon them recently. Working with Akechi had placed a strain on their team dynamic, and hanging out with him as an add-on had been weird for everyone involved.

“C’mon, let’s go inside!” said Ann, squirming where she stood. “It’s freezing out here.”

Futaba nodded in agreement, thin arms quaking as she shoved her hands deep in her pockets. Ryuji rushed ahead to open the door, and they bundled into the planetarium in one shivering mass, paying the requisite fee for attendance and promptly filling out half of the auditorium’s first row.

Akira had seen the show many times with various friends in the past, but it was unexpectedly beautiful every time. Palaces were exotic enough as they were, and they’d had a traumatic first-hand experience of the perils of space in Okumura’s spaceport, but the sight of real, actual space was always amazing. It wasn’t the cognitive world, it was foreign – Akira had never gone to space and probably (unless something really bizarre happened, though knowing his life that was a possibility) never would. It was comforting to see something well and truly beyond his reach when he felt so often like the fate of the world in its entirety rested on his shoulders.

After an hour of oohing and aahing from Ryuji and annoyed elbow jabs from Futaba, the Phantom Thieves congregated in the food court, descending upon a platter of burgers and fries with an energy only starving teenagers could bring to the table. It was just as delicious and unhealthy as Ann had promised, and Akira almost moaned when he bit into the burger. He was so used to the colossal serving size and intimidating fullness of Big Bang Burger that anything else tasted heavenly to his abused taste buds.

“So,” started Futaba conversationally, gulping down a salty fry, “how’d last night go?”

“Last night?” asked Haru, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Ryuji, who was guzzling as much food as he possibly could. “What happened last night, Akira-kun?”

Oh, shit. He’d completely forgotten that Futaba had warned him about Akechi’s impending visit. Akira couldn’t very well explain the finer details of what had taken place, but the Thieves were watching him intently, hanging on his every word. He had to throw them some kind of bone.

“Akechi dropped by Leblanc,” he said, infusing his tone with false nonchalance. “He does that every once in a while. More frequently, these days.”

Immediately, the group’s lighthearted atmosphere soured. Makoto’s pleasantly flushed face turned angry, mouth stretched out in a thin line, and Haru stiffened beside her. _Right._ Of course Haru would be distressed. Akechi – the Black Mask – had murdered her father less than a full month ago. It was natural that any mention of Akechi would upset her.

“For real?!” said Ryuji incredulously as he reached over to snag one of Yusuke's neglected fries. “Did he say anythin’ about the palace? Any hints or anythin'?”

“Not so _loud_ ,” hissed Ann, swatting at his arm with her free hand. “Seriously, Ryuji, you’re gonna get us caught someday.”

Yusuke rolled his eyes at them, before turning his attention back to Akira. “While he’s otherwise occupied at the moment, Ryuji’s question is legitimate. Did Akechi say anything to suggest that he was aware of the palace’s existence?”

“Not yet,” replied Akira. “I don't think he'd bring it up explicitly for obvious reasons, but he was too calm to know the full story. His Personas are probably gone, given that he came up with an excuse to justify his absence long-term. Knowing him, he'll catch onto what's going on sometime soon.”

“Right,” said Makoto, stroking Haru’s knee gently. “He's generally intuitive when it comes to these things, and he has a lot of experience if our intel is correct. He should come to the conclusion fairly quickly with or without our help."

Morgana crawled out of the bag and onto Futaba’s skinny thighs underneath the table. “That’s why we need to act now,” he said firmly. “If we don’t, Akechi will somehow get there before we do. We can’t underestimate his intelligence – he clearly knows what he’s doing.”

Futaba nodded her agreement, and added with considerable force, “We’ll make him pay for what he did to mom and Okumura-san.”

"Is everyone in favor of commencing infiltration as soon as possible?" said Akira to the group. "We decided not to do anything without everyone's agreement. If there are any objections, speak up now."

He looked to Ann and Ryuji, half hoping that one of them would argue for postponement, but they seemed just as convinced as Futaba. Yusuke looked certain too, dark eyes narrowed into angry slits. Makoto’s answer was obvious – she’d been advocating for action against Akechi since they first discovered the palace in the first place. Still, when they made eye contact she nodded curtly, hand gripping Haru’s.

That left only one other person. With a heavy heart, Akira turned his gaze to Haru, waiting patiently until she was ready to speak. When the Okumura heiress raised her head and straightened her spine, Akira knew instantly what her answer would be. Her eyes, though not yellow, held an internal strength he had only seen in her during Milady’s awakening. She looked beautiful and furious.

“If Akechi-kun really was the one behind my father’s death,” said Haru, voice brimming with quiet determination, “then I want to do everything within our power to make him understand the gravity of taking someone’s life. Akira-kun, _please._ ”

Haru was right. Akechi's distorted desires had caused suffering both personal to Akira's friends themselves and incited mass panic in the general population. He had used the powers given to him to liberate society from its chains to seize free will and harness it to satisfy his own selfish wishes, and now he had to pay the price. As the leader of the Phantom Thieves, it was Akira's responsibility to inflict that punishment. There was no getting around it – Akechi's palace was an uncomfortable inevitability, but an inevitability nonetheless.

“Then it’s settled,” said Akira grimly. “Majority rules. We start infiltration first thing tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT IS HIS PALACE THO????? MILLIE BLS TELL US??? alas i will not. you are, however, permitted to speculate in the comments. also let me know how you liked this chapter!!!! <3  
> SEE YALL NEXT WEDNESDAY


	3. act i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew sorry this took longer than anticipated! i'm still figuring out an update schedule for this fic and i had a few exams that forced me to postpone this chapter until about a week after it was supposed to be published. sorry about that! in the future, i'm going to try to update every friday, occasionallt every other friday due to work-related schedule problems. hope you can understand why!
> 
> with that in mind, please enjoy this chapter!

When they settled into their places in Leblanc’s stuffy attic for a meeting the next day, the Phantom Thieves were restless. Now that they’d decided to infiltrate Akechi’s palace, everything felt more urgent, tinged with anxiety. Though they still had two weeks remaining before Sae’s deadline, they could all feel the time draining away, and it made them antsy.

“So,” Makoto began, when no one else spoke. “here’s what we know so far. The person in question is Akechi Goro, celebrity detective and traitor to the Phantom Thieves. I don’t remember what I said exactly, but I was commenting on the Diet’s use of his influence in interviews for popularity.”

“The location is the Diet building, then,” said Futaba, flipping her laptop open. “Interesting. Makoto, why’d you mention the Diet in the first place? I was meaning to ask, but obviously we got a little distracted.”

“Right. I’ve been meaning to bring this up, actually,” said Makoto, laying her palms out flat on the table. “I was reviewing the record of Akechi’s past cases and recent unexplained or unsolved cases from the news, and there was one point of commonality. Overwhelmingly, the victims have been politicians and business owners. For me, that opened up two major possibilities for who could be delivering his orders: a prominent businessman or a politician.”

Akira nodded, propping his chin up on one hand. He’d assumed something similar due to the profile of Akechi’s victims, but he hadn’t pursued the thought more, mostly to avoid his own feelings of guilt. Clearly Makoto didn’t share his sense of restraint.

“At that point, I was stuck. It could be anyone in either of those fields, really,” she admitted. “But when Okumura’s Shadow spoke about hiring a contract killer, I knew right away that the boss had to be a politician. It was highly unlikely that a competing businessman would willingly aid the CEO of a company as large as Okumura Foods with eliminating his enemies. In my opinion, it’s much more probable that a politician seeking non-political alliances did it instead, especially if they’re influential enough to plan an assasination in a heavily guarded interrogation room.”

“Hence the mention of the Diet,” concluded Yusuke. “I see. That’s certainly a well-crafted theory.”

Makoto smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks, Yusuke-kun.”

“That’s a good start, but we still need to find the keywords,” said Morgana, tail flicking behind him as he padded across the table to sit beside Ann. “All of that is stuff that the Nav already confirmed for us. Does anyone have any ideas?”

Ryuji groaned, rubbing his palms over his eyes, and complained, “That’s it, we’re doomed – I’m gonna be stuck in Leblanc for the rest of my live. This part always takes _forever_ , and Akechi’s a freaking quadruple agent or some shit. How the hell are we gonna get his keyword?”

“We know some things about him, Ryuji-kun,” reasoned Haru. “If Akechi-kun really is following the orders of someone in a position of power, perhaps he feels as if he’s being used by this person?”

“Like a puppet, or something?” said Ann, tapping her fingers on the table absently. “That’s interesting. So should the location be, like, a puppet show?”

When the MetaNav didn’t react, Makoto sighed. “No,” she said, “I think that’s too obvious. But I think something to do with performance makes sense… at least for the time being, we should try out terms like that.”  
  
Futaba cracked her knuckles. “Alright,” she said enthusiastically, gesturing to a screen pulled up on her computer’s browser. “I found me a thesaurus, so let’s do some level grinding! Theater, cinema, television, concert hall, auditorium, play, stage, amphitheater, colosseum,” she stopped, taking a deep, heaving breath before continuing, “arena, assembly hall, playhouse – ”

“Futaba,” said Akira, annoyed, “this really isn’t––”

“Wait a moment,” said Haru, lips pursed thoughtfully. “Futaba-chan’s list reminded me of something… well, something my father and I used to do together. He is––” she winced, and corrected herself, “well, he _was_ always a fan of classical music. We went to see many shows together when I was younger and he was more present in my life.”  
  
“A concert hall?” Ryuji said dubiously, scratching his head. “That’s a good start, but I dunno… Akechi doesn’t seem that into music or anythin’.”

“You’re right,” agreed Haru amiably. “But it wasn’t the concerts that Futaba-chan reminded me of. While we went to see shows often, we rarely went to the theater. It was actually under the patronage of a family friend that my father and I were given tickets to see Carmen at a local venue when I was in middle school. Ann-chan, you mentioned deception, right? Well, opera is well known for emphasizing theatricality and exaggerated performances. Perhaps that’s the medium Akechi’s palace has taken after?”

“An opera house,” murmured Makoto. “Interesting.”

 _“Input accepted. Searching for a route to the destination,”_ came the MetaNav’s smooth voice.

Their attic hideout erupted into cheers and a flurry of high fives. Guessing the candidates’ keywords was always one of the more painfully boring aspects of infiltrating a palace. Often it just amounted to a high stakes game of cat and mouse, so it was a relief to get it out of the way so quickly.

“That was _amazing,_ Haru!” said Ann enthusiastically, reaching out to grasp Haru’s hand. “I never could’ve thought of something like that. You’re seriously smart!”

Akira smiled, though he didn’t really feel like celebrating. “Thank you, Haru,” he said. “I hope that didn’t bring up too many painful memories for you.”

“I’m fine,” Haru replied, hands gripping her skirt so tightly her knuckles had gone white. “I just want to get this started.”

Ryuji stood, stretching his arms over his head exaggeratedly. “Let’s do this thing!”

 

**~♡♡♡~**

The phone rang. It was jarring in the peaceful silence of the office, but was picked up within a few seconds, gripped firmly in its owner’s strong hand.

“…Hello?” the voice on the other side greeted nervously. “This is Ootani. I was told that this was the number you use for personal calls.”

_…_

“It is? Excellent,” continued Ootani, relieved. “I was wondering whether you had any updates on the status of Kunaida’s CEO. As I informed you, I would love for Ootani Inc. to provide you with support in the upcoming election, but if Kunaida pulls ahead in the stock market I’m afraid I’ll have to withdraw.” He paused, then added sheepishly, “You know how the business is, after all.”

_…_

“Soon?” Ootani said, tone awash with relief. “Well, that’s great news. I was worried you might have forgotten about me. Haha, well that’s to be expected. One can only handle so much.”

_…_

“Splendid,” he said jovially. “This was a lovely conversation. We’ll have to meet for dinner sometime soon – my wife and I have much news to share with you, Shido-san.”

…

_Click._

 

**~♡♡♡~**

 

The train ride to the Diet was tense and silent. Akira usually liked to boost morale before the first infiltration, but he didn’t feel up to the task. Knowing what journey he was about to embark on and what lay at its end was excruciating, and with each stop the dread in his stomach weighed him down further.

When they finally arrived, gathering in a small clump in front of the building’s massive gates, understanding washed over Akira. The thought of Akechi feeling powerless had surprised him –– the other boy seemed always to be in control, even when he theoretically had handed over the reins. But standing under the massive dividing line between the civilian population and those who controlled the country, looking up at the hulking central command, Akira felt like he was nothing in comparison to the figures who took residence there. _And Akechi probably goes there every single day, too._

Unwilling to entertain further thoughts about Akechi, Akira cleared his throat conspicuously. “Everyone prepared?” he asked, eyes sweeping over his teammates.

When no one objected, Akira dipped his head in reluctant acknowledgement. “Okay. Then let’s get started – we shouldn’t linger here for too long. There's always a chance that someone might see us, especially if Akechi's boss really is working here."

He pressed the pulsing red button on the Nav, and winced when he heard the words he’d been dreading since they first discovered Akechi’s palace: “ _Beginning navigation…”_

 

 

 

The Phantom Thieves tumbled to the hard ground, landing in one sore, teenaged heap.

“We’re _heeeere_ ,” Futaba announced brightly, hopping to her feet. “But jeez, you guys are heavy. Guess we need to plan some more trips to Mementos sometime soon. Get those stats up!”

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Ryuji, wiping off his scuffed knees as he staggered up from the hard asphalt. He looked down at his legs, covered in the fabric of his Phantom Thieves costume, and let out a garbled groan. “Ugh, this is gonna be a pain. We’re already fully dressed. Guess Akechi already sees us a threat, huh?”

“That’s not unexpected,” replied Yusuke, clambering up with more grace. “Still, I am surprised that our strategy worked. That was seamless in comparison to past attempts.”

“Well, we did have more prior information about the target than we’ve had on previous occasions,” said Makoto, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she examined their surroundings. “Honestly, this wasn’t what I was expecting, though. It’s Nagatchou, but nothing looks unusual so far –– it’s barely distorted at all. I can even see the Sanno Park Tower. Still, there’s something really weird about this whole thing. I feel like we’re being watched, somehow.”

“There’s some kind of music, too,” said Ann, pointing to a dark pathway that led into a mass of looming skyscrapers. “I think it’s coming from over there.”

Akira frowned. Though he’d found himself butting heads with her more as of late, he had to admit that Makoto had a valid point. Their surroundings were mostly normal, if not noticeably void of life. There was faint music emanating from somewhere nearby, but the muffled noise only served to complement the utter silence of the roads laid out before them. “Yeah, I got that too,” he said, trying to keep the uneasiness from his tone. “The best plan of action is to head in the direction of the music, but let’s be cautious. We have no idea what’s waiting for us.”

At his signal, the Thieves dispersed across the empty street, slowly making their way. It was quiet –– far too quiet for a palace. There were no Shadows to be seen, and all the buildings were cast in an eerie yellow light, illuminating the shiny window panes and chipped, peeling paint. There was something pointedly unnerving about navigating normally crowded areas alone. Like a fish in a tank, Akira had the distinct feeling he was being observed despite being alone.

 _Is this what Akechi’s life is like?_ he wondered, drinking in the sagging, depressed neighborhood. _Is he always this uncomfortable out in public?_

As they continued down the road Ann had indicated, the music grew louder, swelling into loud trumpets. It was almost overbearing now, sweeping over the abandoned city like a call to action. Streetlights were beginning to trickle on, spreading down the street in front of them in a river of glowing stars. The dirtied pavement was attaining a distinctly golden sheen, and by the end of the path it was blindingly bright, carved to perfection.

“Uh, guys?” said Futaba, jogging up to right beside Akira to thrust her computer in his face. “You’ve got to see this. These power levels…”

“…holy shit,” breathed out Ryuji, looking over Akira’s shoulder at the screen. “That’s–– that’s fucking _insane._ ”

“I think I see why,” said Yusuke, voice quivering with awe. “Leader, this is…”

He was pointing at something in front of them, slightly beyond the golden pathway and bright lights. Akira followed the thin line of his arm, stopping straight in his tracks when he took in the sight that awaited them.

A huge, ornate building stood at the end of the path, five stories high and nearly just as wide. Its roof dripped with gold and other shining jewels, glinting in the harsh floodlights that shone upon it. The windows were shuttered shut but rays of multicolor light filtered through, casting splotches of light down on the golden floor. The doors were heavy and gigantic –– standing dozens of feet in the air, it was barred shut, silver handles held firmly together by a thick piece of stainless steel.

The music was at a fever pitch. An unending drumroll punctuated the trumpets they had heard earlier, ominous thunder that overlaid the twinkling piano and violins that fought for dominance beneath, and a woman’s wailing voice could be heard in the background, dimmed only by the thick walls of the opera house.

There was one benefit to the music, noted Akira even in his shock. It drowned out the screams of the crowd below. A massive throng of people were gathered at the building’s base, pulsing with excitement as they surrounded its entire perimeter. Hulking Shadows outfitted in velvet suits patrolled the area, attempting to herd the cognitions gathered there into a circle, but the energy emanating from the crowd was wild, uncontrollable. They were practically vibrating, closing in on the opera house like vultures to a dead bird. It was so violent Akira feared they would tear down the walls themselves.

It was sickening.

“Joker,” said Makoto gently, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen upon their group. “What do we do?”

Akira’s hands were unwittingly trembling at his sides. He knew he had to say something –– it was his job, and he was the only one prepared to lead the group into the tough battles that undoubtedly awaited them –– yet he struggled to find words that could possibly fix this situation. “I…” he started, voice faltering as he searched for what to say. “I mean, we should…”

“Something’s happening,” whispered Ann urgently, dipping her head in the direction of the opera house. “Joker, look.”

The steel rod holding the doors shut was sliding to the left, ultimately falling to the ground with a loud thunk, and the doors swung inwards, revealing a winding staircase leading to the foyer. Immediately, the crowd rushed in, feeding the building with an endless stream of bodies. The security Shadows directed them inside, herding the crowd like blind cattle.

“I think the doors are going to close again,” said Futaba, balancing her computer on one hand as she typed away with the other. “The steel rod is probably programmed to come out and swing back in at certain intervals, or at least that’s what it seems like at first glance. It’ll probably reactivate in a few minutes once everyone’s inside.”

Haru looked at Akira pleadingly, soft brown eyes wide. Her inquiring gaze was a jolt to his system, spurring his still mind back into high gear. If they missed this opportunity, they would have to return tomorrow, placing strain on their already tight schedule. There was no real choice, then –– they would have to go in today, no matter how much his conscience was screaming that it was the wrong decision.

He would have to let go of his personal feelings. There was no other way.

“We’re going,” said Akira tonelessly, mouth set in a hard line. “Stay behind me. I want to get this done as soon as possible.”

 

**~♡♡♡~**

 

Goro’s phone rang, startling him out of his light sleep with a jolt.

It was the first real rest he’d had in days, slumped over in his stiff desk chair because he was too damn exhausted to drag his heavy body to the bed. Half unconscious, he fumbled on his desk for the thin plastic, cursing under his breath when he saw the name flashing across the screen.

Shido Masayoshi was calling. Of fucking course.

While it wasn’t surprising that Shido would call, Goro had hoped his father would wait another few days, giving him at least enough time to form a plausible cover story explaining his failure to complete his assigned duties. It was, however, not in Shido’s nature to be generous with time, and relying on luck was foolish. Goro supposed this was at least better than a visit from his murderous henchmen.

Shaking the sleep out of his voice, Goro picked up the phone, straightening up out of habit in his seat. “Hello, Shido-san?”

“Akechi,” began Shido, low voice laced with barely contained anger. “I see you have time enough to answer my calls. It’s a pity you can’t reserve the same energy for doing what I ask of you. I thought you were going to take care of the Kunaida CEO, or were you busy solving one of your little personal ‘ _cases’_?”

Goro winced, nails digging into his palm. He would have to be very careful navigating this conversation, clearly –– Shido was furious. And when Shido was furious, he was liable to make rash decisions. Potentially life-ending rash decisions. “I apologize,” he said placatingly. “The Phantom Thieves have increased their activity recently, as mentioned previously. They’re skittish due to my involvement in the infiltration, certainly, but we’re approaching the end. Once this is over, both the Phantom Thieves and Niijima will have effectively been dealt with.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a sigh from Shido. “I suppose you have more to say,” his father said impatiently. “Out with it.”

“Yes, Shido-san,” said Goro. Though they were tentative, the beginnings of an explanation were forming in his tired mind. “To accommodate their more powerful enemies, the Phantom Thieves have established a more regular routine of exploring Mementos –– the subterranean cognitive layer I’ve described to you. Their near constant presence there makes eliminating targets without being noticed difficult, and as such I must postpone outstanding requests to after they’ve been apprehended so as to avoid endangering our operation right before it comes to fruition.”

Shido sighed again. “You know how I despise using my associates to commit violence in the real world,” he said, a scowl evident in his voice. He still seemed rife with annoyance, but markedly less angry than before. _Progress._ “But very well. I admit that your apprehension has merit. However,” he continued warningly, “if our plan is not perfectly executed, Akechi, then you _will_ be.”

Goro swallowed around the knot in his throat, vaguely noting that Shido had hung up. That had been to close a call for his own comfort, and as cunning as he considered himself, those flimsy excuses wouldn’t last much longer. Shido was not a patient man, and Goro’s capacity to provide answers was draining.

It wasn’t fucking _fair._ He’d worked so hard for years, scraping by with nothing in his belly and filling his mind with as much information as he possibly could to achieve the level of fame he’d reached. His Personas had been a gift from the great beyond –– a sign that he was doing the right thing, walking a path that would eventually lead him to greatness. Now that they’d been taken from him, Goro didn’t know what path he was on, but Shido’s threatening presence suggested it was nothing good.

Why had he been blessed if it was only going to be snatched from him when he was so close –– so _unimaginably_ close –– to achieving his goals? What was the purpose? Had he been chosen on the whim of some cruel deity watching from above as a source of pitiful entertainment?

If so, could he avert that deity’s plan and take fate into his own hands? Was such a thing even possible?

Goro couldn’t think of it that way. If he did, the futility of his situation would become even more evident, and the future even more uncertain. No… his fate had been decided years ago. There was no use entertaining any other possibility.

 _Kurusu Akira would probably think differently,_ he noted wryly, tossing his phone onto his desk and relishing in the soft thump the action produced.

Initially, Goro had thought he understood where Kurusu was coming from. He was bitter, slapped with an unfair assault charge and forced to abandon his old life for a new existence as the violent transfer student. Such a person would undoubtedly harbor the desire to change the world around them.

But Kurusu’s desire wasn’t limited to changing the world around him. He wanted to change the individuals that inhabited it, too. He’d done it with all of his dispossessed teammates, had handed them the power that Goro had fought tooth and nail his whole life to achieve on a veritable silver platter. He’d even done it with Goro himself, had bruised his skin and his psyche so profoundly that Goro would always be haunted by the ghosts of Kurusu’s slender hands on his body.

That was the largest difference between them. Goro might have possessed the power to change the world by force, at least when he had his Personas, but Kurusu had mastered something infinitely more important. He had the willpower to force the world to change.

And that was something Goro would never have, no matter how hard he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …………So what do yall think??? (also someone read the tags and ask me what thing is unlike the other PLEASE)


	4. act ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall!! as i said updates are every 1-2 weeks. because this was a 2-week-wait chapter, it's longer than all the previous ones so far. hope you enjoy– let me know in the comments your predictions and thoughts!! i love every one that i get!!
> 
> ciao!!  
> -millie

The Phantom Thieves slipped through the shadows, hiding themselves in the pools of darkness even amidst the gaudy lights framing the opera house. The colorful spotlights were swinging across the open ground like searchlights, and though Akira wasn’t certain, he had a hunch that if he were to step in their path an alarm would go off. It wasn’t surprising –– traps were standard palace fare, and Akira had gone through enough of them at this point to recognize certain common devices.

 _Still,_ he thought, beckoning for his teammates to follow behind as he crept towards the throng of people crowded near the entrance, _it’s not just any palace._ Akechi was––well, Akechi was a Phantom Thief. Undoubtedly, his palace would be more advanced than the ones they’d experienced in the past.

They could worry about that later. For now, there was work to be done.

Narrowing his eyes, Akira flattened himself against a wall, and hissed, “Look right there, near the front. There’s a gap in the crowd. We have to get there, somehow––the doors are going to close any minute now.”

Makoto followed his line of sight and nodded. “I see it,” she confirmed, voice hushed to avoid alerting the guards patrolling nearby. “If we wait for the next round of people to enter, there’s a turnover period of about five seconds between the groups when the Shadows are concentrated or organizing the line. If we take advantage of that and get inside, we should be able to avoid drawing too much attention to ourselves.”

“Good,” said Akira, straightening up to observe the door. The flow of bodies into the opera house was slowing, signaling the beginning of the turnover period, and he said with authority, “Everyone move on three, two, one, NOW!”

Rushing into the crowd, they weaved in and out of the forming line, desperately running to get to the front and push inside. The opening was right there in front of them, a sliver of bright light and loud, keening music giving them a taste of what awaited inside. For a moment, it looked as if they wouldn’t make it––the Shadows were congregating near the front again, massive, hulking bodies closing in on the doorway––but a yelp from within the crowd drew their attention, and the Phantom Thieves ducked around them and into the massive opera house.

“Holy shit,” huffed Ryuji. “I thought we were fucked for a second there. That was _insane,_ dude. How many people actually _want_ to see Akechi?”

“He is a celebrity, and we still might be in peril, Ryuji,” said Yusuke, eyes fixed on the staircase in front of them. “Look at the scope of this place.”

The inside of the palace was decked out in as much grandeur as its flashy exterior. Gold filled the main hall, glittering under the swinging lights. People crowded the room, clumped in small social groups and laughing loudly. They were dressed to the nines, draped in furs and jewels, hair coiffed to perfection. That was the operative word––perfect. Everything was sickeningly perfect.

“Hey, look!” said Morgana, scampering over to an ornate shelf in the corner of the entrance hall. “Programs! I bet there’s a map here, too.”

Obligingly, Akira grabbed the program Morgana had found, rooting through its contents in search of any relevant information. “There are five floors, according to the map on the front,” he said, “and we’re on the first, so there’s no underground level.”

“And in other palaces we’ve found more than one map, too,” said Ann. “So the opera house might be bigger than the map says.”

“Yeah,” said Ryuji, discomfited by the prospect. “Wouldn’t be surprised if there was some freaky shit not on the map.”

Akira flipped through the booklet, decidedly ignoring Ryuji’s comments. The map hadn’t been the only thing in the program, but most of it seemed useless; page after page of mindless gossip and self promotion in sprawling gold leaf wasn’t exactly the best source of insight for an infiltration. “There’s not much else in here,” he said, leafing through the remaining pages. 

“Hold on a moment,” said Haru, tugging the program from Akira’s hands. “Let me look on the back. I remember from when I went to the opera with my father–– the names of the actors and a brief synopsis were often printed there.” She turned the program over, letting out a little gasp of joy when her hypothesis was confirmed. “I knew it,” she said, a triumphant smile spreading across her face as she presented it back to Akira. “Look here, Kurusu-kun––there are some names that might provide tips.”

Akira shot her a brief appraising look and accepted the pamphlet, eyes narrowing as he scanned the text. Akechi Goro was billed as the leading actor–– _the star of the show_ , he thought bitterly––with Shido Masayoshi conducting. That name… Something about it seemed familiar. The oddly recognizable characters sent alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind, vibrating in a sharp, immediate pain that made him wince.

Sighing, he tore his eyes away from the name. It seemed important to think about it more, but the further he delved into the connection between himself and this name, the more the ache spread, pulsing through his mind like a virus. If Shido were truly as important as his body’s visceral reaction was indicating, Akira would rather do research at home than make himself vulnerable in the Metaverse. Below the first headline, another name was written in flowery script.

“‘Honda Michi?’” he read, brushing over the name with his thumb. Unlike Shido, this name was unfamiliar, but nonetheless it felt significant. 

 _Not like I would know,_ thought Akira, even as he catalogued the name for later. Akechi’s life outside of the Phantom Thieves and his detective work ( _and_ , his mind added traitorously, his plan to betray Akira and leave him for dead) was a mystery. They’d conversed about it on occasion before everything had gone to shit, but now even those interactions were tainted by the knowledge that Akechi had been planning to kill him from the start.

Looking over his shoulder, Makoto sucked in a shocked breath. “Shido Masayoshi is listed as the conductor,” she whispered in awe. “The implications of that––I mean, if he’s the conductor, he’s probably the one controlling Akechi. It would make sense... As I suspected, he’s high up on the ladder. But if it’s really Shido, then this goes much deeper than I anticipated.”

“Shido,” said Haru, brows knotting on her forehead. “I recognize that name from somewhere. He’s a politician, right, Mako-chan?”

“Yes, that’s right,” confirmed Makoto, biting her lip. “And not just any politician. He’s the frontrunner in the election for prime minister. If all goes as predicted, he’ll be in charge of this country in a matter of weeks.”

“Jesus,” muttered Ryuji, carding a hand through his cropped blonde hair. “This is so fucked. Lemme get this straight––the dude who’s about to be prime minister is Akechi’s _boss_?”

Makoto nodded gravely, lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Running a search on him now,” announced Futaba, squinting under her goggles. “Whoa! His popularity is off the charts. Like, _seriously_ off the charts––we haven’t had a politician this well-liked in generations. All the polls are predicting him as the winner of the upcoming election.”

Akira frowned, hands tightening around the glossy pamphlet. If this man truly was as powerful as Futaba’s search indicated, going after him would be a challenge, especially amidst all the other problems they were dealing with. And though he _really_ didn’t want to go there, if Akechi really had lost control over his powers, he would be useless as a mercenary. Akira didn’t know how their dynamic worked, but he wasn’t willing to bet on Shido’s altruism. 

“We have to do this quickly,” he realized aloud, earning begrudging nods from the other Thieves. “He’ll kill Akechi if we wait too long.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” said Ann, wrapping her arms around her middle. “I don’t exactly love the guy, but I don’t want him to _die_ or anything. Besides, he can’t atone for all the stuff he’s done if he’s not around anymore.”

Yusuke rubbed his chin in thought. “And if we hesitate too long, Shido might execute Akechi’s plan anyways.”

“Yeah…” said Ryuji, uncharacteristically subdued. “Shit.”

Futaba cleared her throat cheerfully, sounding not at all worried at the prospect of their imminent doom. “Sorry to interrupt the mopefest, but I ran a search on the other name, too. Honda Michi? It looks like she was an actress, mostly active about a decade ago. She wasn’t in anything major, mostly commercials and a few small roles in dramas here and there.”

“Was?” asked Yusuke, brows raised curiously. “Is she not an actress anymore?”

Futaba looked up from her computer, pale face illuminated by the screen’s glare. “Was as in she’s not _anything_ anymore,” she clarified. “The records I found said she died nine years ago. Apparently it was a suicide. She was unmarried, but she had a kid who was pretty young when it happened.”

Akira admired Futaba’s resilience in the face of such a chilling story, though he suspected it was mostly a farce. Honda’s situation was eerily similar to her mother’s, down to the very last detail, and obviously the comparison had not eluded her. But there was something about it that was bugging Akira, because he knew this story. He’d heard it over drinks at the jazz club in Kichijouji, and before, too.

“Is there any way you can search up any relatives she might have?” he asked, though he already knew what the answer to his query would be.

Nodding, Futaba got to work, fingers flying across her keyboard. When the results loaded on her screen, she looked back up at Akira, understanding washing over her face. “She had siblings,” she said. “But her mom was married multiple times, so they’re only half. Her sister is called Kirishima Miho, but her brother’s last name… It’s––”

“Akechi,” Akira interrupted. “Right?”

“Yeah,” said Futaba, closing her computer with an air of finality.

“I’ve heard this story before, actually,” said Akira, turning to the rest of the group. “He was taken in by relatives at a young age afterwards. Probably to avoid the scandal of his mother’s situation, they made him go by Akechi and passed him off as their own. After that he entered the foster care system at some point, but I guess he never changed his name back.”

Haru’s expression was unreadable, but her fingers were quivering. “That’s horrible,” she said, voice soft and low. “Didn’t his father want to take him in?”

Akira shook his head. “I don’t know who his father was, but Akechi said he was a scumbag,” he said. Akechi’s explanation of his father had been wishy-washy at best and deliberately evasive at worse, but Akira understood why he wouldn’t want to discuss it––even he was disgusted by the faceless man who’d left and innocent woman and her unborn child to live completely unsupported. “I’m not even sure if he’s still alive.”

A loud trumpet blast interrupted their conversation, cutting through the still air like a blade. The crowd stirred to life, swelling with voices and excitement, and the dizzying spotlights swiveled to a point at the top of the stairs.

 _This is it_ , thought Akira, steeling himself for whatever they were about to see. He felt like a voyeur, slipping through Akechi’s mind to glean his innermost thoughts like this, but it was too late to turn back now. They had a job to do.

Cheers erupted from the front of the room and Akira pulled himself out of his thoughts, craning his neck to see what was going on. Someone had stepped out, though whoever it was was clearly too old to be Akechi. He was bald, dressed in a fitted black suit with gold cufflinks that shone under the intense spotlight, and in one hand was a baton. 

 _Shido Masayoshi,_ his mind filled in, as the rest of the room turned to static. _ShidoShidoShidoShidoShidoShidoShido––_

“Hey,” murmured Ann, nudging him gently out of his panic. “You okay?”

No, he was _not_ okay, because there was no way the universe was that fucking small. There was no way that the man pulling the strings of Akechi’s life, the man who was about to be at the helm of the entire goddamn country, was also the bastard who’d ruined his life in the first place. There was absolutely no way, except there clearly _was_ a way, because invariably Shido Masayoshi had been there on that fateful evening, had been the disheveled drunk who’d pushed an innocent woman against a wall, had been interrupted by none other than a tired Kurusu Akira returning from his night shift at the local grocery store. 

“I know that man,” replied Akira through gritted teeth, eyes fixed intently on Shido. “He’s the bastard Ryuji and I saw at the buffet on line for the elevator. Coincidentally, he’s _also_ the bastard who got me convicted of assault in the first place.” 

Ann gasped, covering the astonished ‘o’ of her mouth with one hand. “No way,” she said, eyes darting between Shido and Akira. “If that’s the case, then––”

“Good evening, everyone!” crowed Shido, booming voice drowning out the rest of Ann’s sentence. “I hope you’re all ready for an extremely special performance tonight!”

The crowd cheered in response, swaying ever closer to the foot of the stairs. The electric thrill running through the spectators was palpable, and it disgusted Akira to his core, trickling down his spine like a bucket of icy water.

“Our very own star is on stage, of course,” continued Shido, “alongside the beautiful Honda Micchi! Come on out, Micchi-chan!”

From behind the velvet curtain, a beautiful woman stepped out. Even if she hadn’t been onstange, Akira would have assumed that was her calling, because she wore her looks dramatically. Her hair fell in curling chestnut waves, just skimming the neckline of her black dress, and the whole ensemble was dripping with diamonds, from the accessories pulling back her bangs to the constellation patterns sprawling across her outfit. Most beautiful of all were her eyes, though––deep, dark pools, framed by thick lashes that seemed to be staring right at him even from so far away.

Akira swallowed, throat dry. As it turned out, Honda Micchi looked just like Akechi. The resemblance was more than striking. It was unbearable.

“Thank you, everyone!” she shouted, continuing forward to lock arms with Shido. “I’m so thrilled to be working with Shido-san on this production! It’s been amazing to be together like this––a real family, right, Shido-san?”

Shido just laughed. “Of course, my dear,” he purred lasciviously. “My lovely Micchi is a wonderful mother and an even better partner, especially on lonely nights like these.”  
  
Honda squealed, slapping his chest with her free hand in feigned embarrassment. “Stop, Masayoshi,” she whined, though she was smiling, white teeth gleaming. “You’re embarrassing me in front of all these lovely people.”

The rows of bodies spanning the room convulsed with uproarious laughter, relishing in the duo’s cheeky humor. But it was unnatural, far too mechanical for a crowd of this size. _Like a laugh track in an American sitcom,_ Akira thought. Fake. Exaggerated. Creepy, even, under the wrong circumstances.

“This variety show act is weird as shit,” grumbled Ryuji, echoing Akira’s thoughts. “Even in his own damn mind Akechi likes to play games. I have no fucking clue what’s going on.”

Some of the other Thieves nodded in agreement but Ann remained still, blue eyes swimming with concern. No one else had overheard their previous conversation and clearly the knowledge of Shido’s more personal misdeeds was weighing on her. Akira shot her a look he hoped conveyed _we’ll discuss this later_ and turned his attention back to Shido and Honda, who were still bantering. 

“You’re too much, Shido-san,” giggled Honda, twirling a strand of hair around her index finger like a besotted schoolgirl. “We’re taking away from the performance! Oooh, the audience must be _furious_ with us!”

“Well, we can’t have that,” quipped Shido heartily. “Sorry, folks! The man of the hour––our _very own_ star, the revered and adored detective––should be ready soon, and then we’ll start the show of a lifetime!”

“That’s right!” said Honda, bejeweled arms glinting under the intense light. “We’ve been prepping my darling boy for years to put on this show for you all! I’m so excited to show you the product of our labor of love, the spectacle everyone’s here to see tonight: Akechi Goro versus the Phantom Thieves!”

 

 

**~♡♡♡~**

          Phantom Thieves 

 

> **Akechi:** Apologies for the lack of communication on my end.
> 
> **Akechi:** I have been very preoccupied with other matters as of late, and thus have been unable to reach out until now.
> 
> **Akechi:** I wish to meet with you all for consultation about the Niijima case as soon as possible. A free spot has just opened up in my schedule, and it would be no good to waste it on anything trivial. This issue is pressing, as you all know.
> 
> **Akechi:** I expect a reply. Thank you for your patience with my situation.

**~♡♡♡~**

The crowd roared in delight, so hard and so loud that the ground seemed to rumble beneath their feet. Shido and Honda stepped back behind the curtain, leaving the spot they’d occupied seconds earlier open, and the spotlights began to circle the room again, casting colorful shadows wherever they pointed.

When the room calmed down, the group recongregated, occupying a corner of the room far from prying eyes and ears.

“Versus the Phantom Thieves?” said Morgana as soon as everyone was settled, tail swishing back and forth behind him. “Does he know we’re here?”

“I don’t necessarily think so,” said Makoto, carefully skirting around an outright confirmation. “If his main mission from Shido is to go after the Phantom Thieves, then it makes sense that he would be preoccupied with defeating us.”

Yusuke hmm’d under his breath, eyes downturned. “There is something that’s been weighing on my mind since I first heard it,” he said when nobody else spoke. “Honda mentioned that the performance made them ‘a real family.’ I know as do you all of the familial relationship between Akechi and Honda, but for Shido to be included in that…”

“…implies that he’s a part of it,” finished Haru. Her lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly. “I noticed that, too. Is it––could it be possible that Shido and Akechi are related?”

“Theoretically speaking, yes,” said Makoto after a moment’s consideration, angling her head toward the now empty staircase. “It would actually fill in a lot of the blanks in our current understanding of the situation. For example, it easily explains why Akechi is working with him in the first place. If they truly are father and son, then Akechi’s devotion makes much more sense.”

“Stop,” interjected Akira, voice angier and more jagged than even he realized. “That’s not possible, Makoto. Even you know that level of speculation is unwarranted.”

Makoto’s red eyes flashed with annoyance. The tension between them had been festering for days now, bubbling up until it reached an explosive boiling point, so Akira wasn’t surprised that she’d be frustrated with him. Still, it would be extremely unwise to let their big blowout happen in a volatile palace on the first infiltration.

“Why not?” she challenged. “Since you’re obviously the master of all things Akechi, enlighten us, _Joker._ Why isn’t it possible?”

“It just isn’t, okay?” he said. Everyone was looking at them now, and he couldn’t help but shrink under his teammates’ inquisitive stares. “Look, Shido’s a terrible person. Even Akechi wouldn’t be fully loyal to someone like that. Besides, he’s said himself that he hates his father. Why would he work so hard for someone he despises?”

“I don’t know, but shouldn’t we at least investigate the theory?” asked Makoto, digging her heels in. “The only thing we know about Shido at this point is that he’s Akechi’s boss, but you’re _so_ quick to say he’s a terrible person. How would you even know that, unless Akechi’s told you more about him than you’ve said so far?”

“Uhh, Makoto,” Ryuji interjected skeptically. “Not to doubt you or anything, but it’s pretty clear the dude’s a shitstain. He’s forcing a teenager to kill people.”

“I think it was just his intonation,” Haru said, positioning herself in front of Makoto. “Mako-chan was making sure we’re all on the same page. It’s perfectly fair of her to do that.”

Ryuji’s thin brows shot up on his forehead, and he looked ready to fight back when Ann groaned and inserted herself between the two arguing groups.

“Enough is enough!” she hissed. Turning to Akira, she said, “You’re supposed to be our leader, but you can’t just expect everyone’s going to agree with you all the time. Remember when Ryuji and Morgana had a fight and we almost _broke up_? We can’t get in a situation like that again––there’s no way we can work as a team when we’re arguing.”

Akira nodded. Though she didn’t always look it, Ann was fierce when she got angry. Moreover, she was right: it was his job to stop conflicts like this from breaking out. Participating in them wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“And you!” said Ann, pushing a finger into Makoto’s chest. “You’re supposed to be mature about this kind of stuff. I know it’s hard to stay objective when Haru’s involved, but it’s hard for Akira, too––Shido’s the guy who slapped him with an assault conviction in the first place!”

Makoto, who had looked vaguely chastened during Ann’s lecture, looked up in surprise. “Wait, what?” she said, bewildered. “The person who did that to you was Shido?”

Ann slapped a hand over her mouth, though it was far too late to take back what she’d said. “Sorry,” she mouthed in Akira’s direction. “Accident.”

“Yeah,” Akira admitted, ignoring Ann’s beseeching gaze. He wasn’t really mad––it was bound to come out eventually, on his own terms or not––but it was annoying that it was so soon after he’d found out himself.  “I was going to tell everyone when we left the Metaverse, but I guess now’s as good a time as any. I knew I recognized his name from something, but when I saw his face I immediately realized what from. It’s crazy, right?”

“That’s one helluva coincidence,” said Ryuji, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jesus.”

“Yeah…” agreed Makoto. After an awkward pause, she sighed and stuck out her hand in Akira’s direction. “Look,” she started, “I obviously didn’t realize who Shido was, and if I had I wouldn’t have mentioned my idea in the first place. While I do think it’s a theory we should explore, I recognize that I should’ve given you more time to process before springing it on you like that. And… accusing you of colluding with Akechi was unfair. I’m sorry.”

Akira took her hand, shooting her a relieved smile. “I’m sorry for getting angry at you like that. It was entirely and completely undeserved. Truce?”

“Truce,” she confirmed, and they shook on it.

“If that’s all,” said Yusuke, grateful that the fighting had stopped, “I think we should depart for now. That should give Akira time to reflect on what he has learned and Makoto the opportunity to further develop her theory.”

“For once, I agree with Inari,” said Futaba, shifting on her feet. “And besides, I’m starving! Sojiro’s curry sounds _so_ good right now.”

Akira nodded. Tensions were running high, and though they’d managed to avoid a major argument just now, there was no telling who would blow up next. Besides, he wanted time to think about what they’d seen –– _and,_  he added reluctantly, to consider Makoto’s idea. “Exiting the Metaverse now,” he said, and the world swirled into black and red.

**~♡♡♡~**

 

         Phantom Thieves

 

> **Futaba:** jfc whyyyyyyyy
> 
> **Akechi:**?
> 
> **Futaba:** oh shit lol
> 
> **Futaba:** wrong person srry lolol
> 
> **Akechi:** Ah.
> 
> **Makoto:** We’d be glad to talk to you, Akechi-kun
> 
> **Makoto:** How does a meeting tomorrow sound? 7pm at Leblanc?
> 
> **Akechi:** I’ll be there.
> 
> **Akira:** See you then
> 
> **Ryuji:** Yup i guess ill b there 2
> 
> **Yusuke:** I believe that was implied, Ryuji.
> 
> **Akechi:** If that’s all, I must be going. Til tomorrow, then.
> 
> **Akira:** Cu tomorrow!

 

        (Better) Phantom Thieves

 

> **Futaba:** i nearly fucked up there hahahah
> 
> **Futaba:** tbf i dont think he knows what the acronyms are so it prolly wldnt matter either way
> 
> **Futaba:** but still lolol
> 
> **Ann:** I almost diedddd LOL but Futaba-chan you gotta be more careful!!
> 
> **Makoto:** I’m sure he’s aware that we have conversations without him
> 
> **Makoto:** But nonetheless, Ann-chan is correct
> 
> **Ryuji:** Man fuck that guy for real
> 
> **Ryuji:** Whys he always gotta ruin the group chat
> 
> **Haru:** Chin up, Ryuji-kun! That’s why we have this one!
> 
> **Ryuji:** Tru. but STILL
> 
> **Yusuke:** I was surprised by his bluntness, but he doesn’t usually participate in our more…
> 
> off-topic conversations.
> 
> **Futaba:** ooooooh inari that sounded dirty~~~~( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> **Yusuke:**?
> 
> **Futaba:** dw lololol
> 
> **Akira:** ahem anyways
> 
> **Akira:**  Before our meeting tmrw we shld go to the casino
> 
> **Akira:** We need 2 get some shit done there
> 
> **Makoto:** Good choice, Akira-kun
> 
> **Makoto:** …Thank you:)
> 
> **Haru:** Mako-chan<333 so kind!!! So charming!!
> 
> **Makoto:** (*//////*)
> 
> **Ryuji:** …Im gna go running now lol. This is gettin 2 weird 4 me
> 
> **Ann:** Lol romance phobic. Have fun on ur run!!
> 
> **Ryuji:** Shut up
> 
> **Ryuji:** But thnks lol Ill do my best lol
> 
> **Ryuji:** Have fun eating cake or modelling or wtv lmaoooo
> 
> **Futaba:** so obvious……… smh
> 
> **Futaba:** get yalls shit 2gether
> 
> **Ann:**???
> 
> **Futaba:** nvm sigh. alright losers im gonna go play some vidya but
> 
> **Futaba:** b there tmrw or b square!!!!!
> 
> **Futaba:** kthxbye
> 
> **Akira:** Lol
> 
> **Akira:** See y’all tmrw. I gtg sleep I feel dead
> 
> **Haru:** Bye~!

Akira flopped onto the bed, sighing as he sank into his soft comforter. After a day of Metaverse travelling, crawling into bed was one of the finest pleasures known to man. Usually he had something to do at night, whether it was working one of his part-time jobs or hanging out with his more unruly friends, but no one had texted him, which left him with a whole empty evening free for some much-needed R&R.

Before he gave into the throes of sleep, he scrolled through his old messages. There were a few from Futaba––mostly memes, which made him laugh a little––and some others from various other Thieves, though most of those were just questions about their ever-changing infiltration schedule. In the middle of a scrabble game with Haru and a link to some shady website from Mishima, one text stood out from earlier that same day.

Wiping his tired eyes, Akira sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. Akechi had texted him? That was a surprise. Though they saw each other pretty frequently, or at least they used to, Akechi almost never deigned to text. It was a professional message, as per usual, but it still made a smile twitch at Akira’s lips. 

 

> **Akechi:** Is the infiltration proceeding as expected?

When he considered what to respond, scenes from the palace rose unbidden from the abscesses of his mind. Akira had promised himself not to hold whatever he saw there against Akechi, but he couldn’t help but be disturbed by the garish opera house. Instead of giving him a real answer, Akira decided to take a risk. 

 

> **Akira:** Ya, but… are you okay, Akechi??

There was a long silence, and Akira almost drifted off to sleep when suddenly his phone buzzed. Scrambling to find it amidst the mess of blankets and pillows near his head, Akira shoved his glasses on to read whatever had come in.

 

> **Akechi:** And why do you care? Don’t feel obligated to worry about me.

Ouch. This was more barbed than Akechi’s usual mild responses, but Akira felt glad reading it nonetheless. Maybe this was more like the real Akechi––polite, but angry sometimes. A little bit bitter.

 

> **Akira:** Because you’re my teammate ofc!! (＾▽＾)

His phone registered that Akechi had read the message, but there was no bubble indicating that he intended to respond. Akira bit his lip, considering, then added: 

 

> **Akira:** And because you’re my friend, Akechi. Don’t forget that.

With that, he threw the phone on his nightstand, burying his face in the pillow. He had 24 hours and a lot of strategizing to do before their next meeting, and absolutely zero hours to waste. It was going to be a long day at Shujin tomorrow. 

**~♡♡♡~**

Goro stared at his face in the mirror.

He wasn’t one for aesthetic vanity, but even he was ashamed at his current appearance. It was important to uphold a clean-cut image in the circles he frequented, and the bloodshot eyes and greasy hair he was currently sporting gave him the appearance of a particularly desperate junkie looking for his next fix. This, clearly, would not do.

Sighing, he reached for the eyedrops he kept in his bathroom cabinet. If he couldn’t soothe his eyes with the natural remedy of sleep, he’d have to do it with the power of science. Otherwise Shido would notice that something was wrong, and he’d be executed.

It was funny how casually he contemplated his own death these days. Years ago, he would’ve cried––into the borrowed blankets of the most recent foster home, or his own clothing, when he was being especially pathetic. Now, he couldn’t muster the requisite energy to worry about his own fate. The only thing motivating him anymore was the thought of Shido’s destruction, and it was for that revenge that he was shaking old eyedrops into his swollen eyes at three in the morning.

Kurusu had texted him earlier. _Are you okay?_ he’d asked, and Goro had laughed out loud. He wasn’t okay. Of course he wasn’t okay. What a dumb question to ask your enemy; as if Kurusu gave half a shit whether he was okay or not. It was a preposterous notion. And yet, when Goro had clarified that Kurusu needn’t pretend to care on his behalf, he’d replied: _Because you’re my friend._

When Goro felt something wet rolling down his cheeks face, for a moment he wondered if he was crying. He lifted his hand to his cheek and stared at the liquid, then barked out a laugh. 

It wasn’t some depressing lone tear from a teenage drama. It was fucking eye drop fluid. There was no way he’d cry over Kurusu calling them friends––the mere thought was preposterous.

 _And yet,_ a voice chanted in the back of his mind as he leaned forward to squeeze out more drops. _You were happy, weren’t you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> owo howd yall like the pain


	5. pausa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO HELLO! i accidentally posted this last night whoops. sorry to anyone who got a notification!! now, i didn't bump the rating up because it's not the standard for this story, but i think everyone knows what that warning means, right??? have fun!!! if you have any questions about stuff akira refers to it's probably in the prequel, so read that if you haven't already
> 
> ciao!!  
> -millie

“He’s late,” said Makoto, crossing her arms over her chest. “Remind me, Akira, why are we waiting here like idiots when Akechi clearly isn’t coming?” 

Rubbing his eyes, Akira lifted his phone helplessly, displaying the screen for all to see. He’d called Akechi at least five times, but he wasn’t answering or reading any of Akira’s many messages. It was weird - even if he was avoiding them, usually Akechi would at least respond to things directed his way.

“Mako-chan,” chided Haru, laying a hand on her girlfriend’s arm, “we don’t _know_ that yet. It’s possible that Akechi-kun is delayed - after all, train schedules have been irregular recently. Akira-kun is trying his best to make sure this meeting goes as planned.”

“Still,” yawned Ryuji, kicking his feet up onto the table, “I give up at this point. It’s been twenty minutes and he still hasn’t shown his ugly mug. Let’s just get out of here already. The casino was _hell_ today, and we’re all fuckin’ exhausted.”

“Don’t be crass, Ryuji,” said Yusuke, nose wrinkled in distaste. “It’s unbecoming of a Phantom Thief. Though I suppose your argument does have merit…” 

Akira frowned, looking up from his phone. Crass or not, Yusuke was right: Ryuji did have a point. The infiltration had been brutal, especially one man short, and waiting for Akechi to show up when he wasn’t answering texts or calls seemed pointless. “Yeah, alright,” he admitted with a weary sigh, dropping his phone onto his lap. “There’s no reason we should wait this long for a meeting he called in the first place. I can try to contact him later and tell him we have to meet a different time.”

His announcement was met with a wave of grateful smiles, and the team began to shove their gear into their school bags, preparing to depart from the café at long last, when Futaba cleared her throat guiltily. “Uh, guys?” she said, lifting her hands out in front of her defensively when everyone turned to stare. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but Akechi just got to Leblanc. Like… two seconds ago. He’s talking to Sojiro right now, but I’m pretty sure he’s coming up. …And, yup! There he goes.”

“You’re fucking _kidding_ me,” groaned Ryuji, slumping back down on the couch. “The dude lives to ruin my life, I swear.”

“Seriously,” said Makoto, brows twitching with barely restrained anger as she dropped her bag onto the table. “As if we don’t have to study for entrance exams. This is a waste of everyone’s time.”

Akira shot her an annoyed look, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs. Akechi’s footsteps were audible, dress shoes clacking against the old staircase ominously with every passing second, and everyone stared at the space where he would soon appear with strange anticipation. 

 _It makes sense,_ realized Akira. This would be their first time seeing him after finding out about the Palace.

After a few seconds’ wait, Akechi came into view. He looked even worse than the last time Akira had seen him––today he was visibly exhausted, brown eyes dulled by sleep and deep, dark circles drooping down onto his sallow face. His usual jacket was gone, and in its absence Akira could clearly see the crevices of his sharp collarbones jutting out under his shirt.

“Sorry for the wait,” he said as if nothing was wrong at all. “I encountered a problem earlier that had to be resolved before I arrived. I hope no one was inconvenienced.”

“It’s fine,” Makoto said before anyone else could interject. Though she’d had some sort of tirade planned, Akira saw the obvious concern on her face. She had noticed Akechi’s appearance too, then. 

“Yep,” chimed in Futaba with false cheer. “No inconvenience whatsoever, Akechi.”

Akechi looked confused, but the expression was gone in a split second, replaced by his usual polite smile. “Good,” he replied pleasantly. “I wouldn’t want to disrupt your schedules. I know you’re all very busy. Speaking of, that _is_ the subject of today’s meeting.”

Makoto nodded, leaning forward onto the table. “We figured. As per your text, we went on without you, though we’re definitely going slower than before. It should probably be another few full days before we finish, and then there’s the matter of sending the calling card.”

Straightening in his seat, Akechi’s face turned serious. “About that,” he said. “I think we should wait until the final day before go through with it. The investigation is… quite sensitive, and if something happens to the lead investigator far enough before the deadline, undoubtedly the authorities would be able to use the information she collected during her tenure to target you.”

Akira’s eyes squeezed shut. He’d known this was coming––Futaba had looked at Akechi’s phone conversations and provided the information they needed to prove he was conspiring to kill Akira––but hearing Akechi lay the groundwork for his plan was painful. The thought of the same fucking man who’d convinced an innocent woman to lie for him manipulating Akechi into behaving this way, forcing him to carry on with his disgusting work even as he sffered, made him sick.

“Fine,” he snapped, forcing himself to look back at Akechi. He knew he sounded pissed, but he didn’t care––he was _furious,_ and he wanted someone to know.“Your reasoning is sound. We’ll do as you advise. Did you want anything else, or was that all?”

Akechi blinked at him, surprised. “I suppose that’s most of what I wanted to say,” he said. “Though I did want to ask Morgana something specifically.”

Morgana lifted his head from his paws, interest piqued. “Oh?” he prompted. “I’m listening. Go on, Akechi.”

“I conducted some research about the Metaverse on my own, and I wanted to consult you for guidance,” Akechi began, eyes darting between Akira and Morgana. “I was wondering––what are the conditions that permit someone to have a Persona?”

Licking his paw innocuously, Morgana replied, “There are a few. First, as you know, there has to be the desire to change society, usually spurred on by something else. That desire has to be resolve, so if it’s gone, then the conditions won’t be met anymore and something might happen.”

“‘Something might happen?’” Akechi echoed. “Sorry, but could you clarify what you mean by that?”

“Well, y’know,” said Morgana casually, looking straight up at Akechi. “Such a person could lose their Persona altogether.”

Akechi’s breath stuttered. When everyone turned to look at him, he coughed into his sleeve. “Apologies,” he said, a rueful smile plastered onto his face. “My allergies have been acting up lately. Must be the cold.”

“Right,” said Akira, shooting him a tight grin. “You should go home and rest, then.” It was abrupt gesture, Akira knew, but he wanted to be alone––Akechi’s face was wearing him down, grating on his raw nerves. Being in his presence was hard in light of all that he’d learned in the past day, and the knowledge that Akechi was going to kill him after all made it all the more difficult.

“I was going to stay and have a coffee,” Akechi countered, brown eyes wide and innocent, “just to sustain me through this evening. If you’d prefer to be alone, I can go.”

Akira resisted the urge to scream and instead made a faint gesture in the café’s direction. “Knock yourself out.”

With a curt nod, Akechi hurried off, dragging his silver briefcase behind him like an anchor. From behind, the notches of his spine were visible against the thin material of his shirt. _Great._

Futaba yawned, stretching her arms over her head exaggeratedly. “Look at the time,” she exclaimed, feigning shock at the numbers printed across her phone. “The meeting’s over, and I have a _lot_ of work to do, so I’m gonna get going. Mona, c’mere––be my emotional support animal for the night.”

“Wh––hey!” squealed Morgana as Futaba scooped him into her arms, lumbering with some difficulty towards the downstairs area “Lemme go!”

They disappeared down the steps in a flurry of noise, and Makoto stood as well, grabbing her bag from the table. “Haru and I should be going as well,” she said, guilty even as she bundled up to leave. “All the senior classes have exams soon, and we need to study.”

Haru nodded, equally contrite, and gathered her own things. “Sorry, Akira-kun,” she whispered, giving him a little thumbs up as she followed Makoto out of the attic. “Good luck!”

Ryuji opened his mouth to say something, but Akira just waved him off. “The rest of you can go,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll deal with Akechi myself. Don’t worry about it.”

He laid his head down onto the table as his remaining teammates shuffled out of his room. Now that Akechi was out of his sight, he wasn’t so angry anymore. More than anything, he wanted to take Akechi into his arms and hold him close. Fuck if Akechi needed it––he looked awful, worn to the bone. 

Slowly, Akira got to his feet, trudging down the stairs to the nearly empty café. Everyone else was already gone, but sure enough Akechi was seated at the counter, sipping a steaming cup of coffee.  

Sojiro lingered by the door, staring down at his phone, but when he saw Akira at the foot of the stairs he perked up. “Futaba called,” he said in lieu of explanation, grabbing his hat off the rack and shrugging his light jacket on. “Gotta go. Make sure to lock up. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“I will,” said Akira, sliding into the seat next to Akechi. “See you, Boss.”

The door closed with a cheery jingle, and then they were alone, accompanied only by the quiet noise emanating from the TV.

**~♡♡♡~**

 

> **Futaba:** hey
> 
> **Futaba:** told sojiro to come home so you and akechi could talk
> 
> **Futaba:** but l8r tonight can u call me??
> 
> **Futaba:** i just. theres something rlly important that i think we should disuss
> 
> **Futaba:** you kno youre like a brother to me rite???
> 
> _[Message deleted by sender.]_
> 
> **Futaba:** just… call me, ok???
> 
> **Futaba:** ok bye lmk when u read this
> 
> **Futaba:** love u nerd **♡**

**~♡♡♡~**

When Sojiro was gone, Akira turned to the boy sitting beside him. The lines of Akechi’s profile were harsh in the dimly lit room, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Akira’s eyes tracked the movement helplessly, trailing down the long expanse of his throat.

“I see you’ve come to join me,” said Akechi, placing the cup down onto the countertop and dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief. “I’m surprised. You seemed angry, upstairs.”

Akira paused for a moment, resting his chin on his flat palms, then said truthfully, “I wasn’t angry. At least, I wasn’t angry at _you._ Just tired.”

A short laugh escaped Akechi, and Akira looked up at him, surprised by the sudden noise. “That, I understand,” said Akechi, taking another long sip of his coffee. “You’d be surprised how long the human body can last without sleep. It’s more than most people realize.”

“Akechi…” said Akira, reaching out to touch the sharp curve of Akechi’s jaw. “Are you okay?”

Akechi didn’t react, looking instead to the glare of the TV. “Let me ask you something,” he said, gulping down the rest of his coffee. “Your justice,” he started, then stopped. 

“Yes?” asked Akira, stroking Akechi’s jawline in earnest now. “What about it?”

“We’ve spoken about it in the past, of course,” Akechi continued, eyes pointedly not meeting Akira’s. “It was the foundation of our acquaintanceship for several months, but we haven’t talked about it since I’ve joined the group. I see how you operate, now, so I understand the point you attempted to make all those months ago, but there’s one thing I still can’t quite grasp.”

There was a lull in the conversation, a comfortable silence tempered by the faint buzz from the TV and the humming of the kettle behind them, and then Akechi began to speak again. “How do you maintain it?” he said, finally looking back to Akira. His eyes were dark, piercing even though they were bloodshot and swollen. “How do you know what you believe in?”

Akira laughed, the sound bubbling out of him before he could force it back down. “Sorry,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just––I ask myself the same question every single day.” He paused, thinking, and said, “The reality is that I don’t really know. I didn’t start the Phantom Thieves because of some huge ideological principle, though I know you like that, Mr. Hegel. I joined because there was a teacher at Shujin who broke my friend’s leg, and because some asshole assaulted a woman on the street and I just happened to be there to intercept it. I guess I thought if I could help them, then that would be good. And for me, that’s enough to justify what we’re doing.”

“I see,” replied Akechi after a moment’s consideration. He seemed anxious, now––his words were hurried, bleeding into each other. It was unlike him. “Interesting. I’ll be sure to take that into account.” He withdrew his phone from his pocket, pressing the home button soundly to check the time, and let out a displeased hum. “I have to go now. Thank you for having me.”

“No problem,” said Akira, voice hollow even to his own ears. He slipped his hand back into his pocket and away from Akechi’s smooth skin, and added, “Hopefully you’ll drop by sometime soon?”

Akechi shrugged, but his lips were pursed in a thin, somber line. “I can try, but most likely it won’t be possible. My schedule doesn’t make many allowances for personal visits.” He dropped a few coins onto the table, enough to cover the coffee he’d purchased, and stood, grabbing his briefcase from where it was sitting on the floor.

 _Something’s wrong,_ warned Akira’s mind, _something’s so, so wrong._ There was a nasty knot welling in his stomach, a tangled mess of sadness and anger and confusion and a feeling he wasn’t ready to define, and it tugged at the nerves in his body. It felt wrong to let Akechi leave, like if he walked out the door it would be the last time they’d see each other.

Akira lurched off his seat, chasing after Akechi. “Wait,” he said, desperate, grabbing onto the other boy’s hand. “Please, Akechi. Don’t leave.”

Akechi didn’t turn around, but his body stiffened, wrist straining against Akira’s hold. “I don’t need your pity,” he said, but his voice was shaking, more unsteady than Akira had ever heard it before. “Why don’t you just let me go?”

“It’s not pity,” said Akira, wrapping his arms around Akechi’s waist to pull him closer. Akira couldn’t see the other boy’s expression, but his body was tangible, warmth seeping through his thin shirt. Burying his face in the groove between Akechi’s neck and shoulder, he said again, “It’s not.”

Akechi sagged back, shuddering at the press of Akira’s lips against his neck. “Kurusu-kun,” he said softly, lolling his head far back enough to make tentative eye contact. “I…”

“Don’t leave,” repeated Akira, words hot and burning on Akechi’s skin. “Please.”

“Okay,” whispered Akechi. “Okay.”

The second he turned around, Akira was kissing him, hard and needy. Akechi responded immediately, lacing his arms around Akira’s neck and grabbing spools of his curly hair. Unlike last time, this wasn’t a kiss for the sake of it––Akira knew exactly where he was going with this kiss, exactly what it was going to burgeon into.

“Kurusu-kun,” Akechi sighed into his mouth. “We can’t do this anymore.”

“I know,” said Akira miserably, grasping Akechi’s chin and ducking back down to kiss him again. “Just one more time. Let me have you one more time.”

They stumbled upstairs into Akira’s room, past the memorabilia stacked high on his shelves and the tacky poster pasted haphazardly onto his wall, and into the tiny bed shoved up against the window. It was strange, thought Akira, crawling on top of Akechi. No one had experienced his room here like this before, through half-lidded and hazy eyes, in between the important stuff, like Akechi was now.

“Come on,” murmured Akechi, cheeks flushed with exertion and embarrassment. “Stop staring and get on with it.”

Akira huffed out a laugh, looking down at the rosy boy beneath him, and leaned down to capture his lips again. It was hot and wet, and Akechi’s breath was mingling with his own as they kissed, electric in the stuffy room. It wasn’t like their first time, born of careful calculation and mutual need. This was something new––intimate, somehow, in a way that it hadn’t been before. Their bodies were pressed so close together it was stifling, but Akira didn’t care, shoving his hands under Akechi’s shirt and grasping his lean waist.

“Take it off,” breathed out Akechi, dark eyes bright. “Come on, hurry up already.”

“Be patient, Akechi,” said Akira, sucking a mark onto Akechi’s collarbone and squeezing his waist harder. “There’s no rush. We’ll get there eventually.”

Akechi squirmed, arousal pressing into Akira’s leg. “Please, Joker,” he begged, grinding up to find any source of friction. “Please…”

A blush settled on Akira’s cheeks, but he shook his head, leaning down to kiss Akechi deep and slow like he wanted. In truth he loved it when Akechi called him Joker, had gotten off to it last time, but now there was a better idea taking shape in his mind. “Don’t call me that,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head. “Call me Akira instead. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

Red to his hairline, Akechi hesitated. “Akira,” he said at last, eyes still trained on Akira’s.

Akira reached for the buttons of Akechi’s shirt, ignoring the heat crawling down his neck. “Good,” he said, fingers grazing the soft muscle of Akechi’s belly with every movement. “You’re being so good for me, Akechi.”

Akechi inhaled sharply, dark eyes almost black. His long hair spread across the pillow, fanning out behind his head, and his swollen lips glistened obscenely in the moonlight. “Come on,” he pleaded, grabbing onto Akira’s bare arm. “Hurry up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Akira breathed out, reaching down to pull Akechi’s zipper. “Gimme a second.”

Once the zipper was down, Akechi pulled at the legs until his pants were crumpled in a heap at the foot of the bed. Akira tugged his own waistband down until his legs were bare, too, and threw the Shujin-mandated bottoms on top of his other clothing on the floor. When their eyes met again, the air was charged with tension, so thick it was smothering.

“Akechi,” murmured Akira, pushing Akechi back down onto the mattress, “do you want me to fuck you?”

Akechi’s pink tongue darted out to lick the swell of his bottom lip, teasing, and he looked up at Akira through his thick lashes. “Yes,” he admitted readily. “I do want you to fuck me, Akira.”

Letting out a surprised laugh, Akira reached toward the bedside table. “I didn’t expect you to be so forward,” he said, spreading the lube out on his fingers. “Last time you could hardly manage to say anything.”

“Last time was the first time,” Akechi gasped, eyes squeezing shut when Akira’s finger circled his hole and pressed deep inside.

 _And this time is the last,_ Akira’s thoughts supplied. 

Silently, Akira added a second finger, then a third. Akechi writhed beneath him, thin legs splayed out and fingers gripping the bedsheets as tight as possible while Akira loosened his hole. His own dick was hard and weeping between his legs, but he didn’t dare touch it––he wanted to get off inside Akechi, and he doubted he’d be able to stop himself from coming if he decided to jerk off now.

“I’m ready,” Akechi exhaled, stilling his hips. His lips were bitten raw, and his dick was leaking on his stomach, flushed red and just as hard as Akira’s. “If you don’t put it in now I’m going to come from your fingers, Akira… please.”

Akira took a deep, steadying breath and withdrew his fingers. He rolled a condom over his dick and lined it up with Akechi’s stretched hole, biting his lip when the head pushed past his rim. Pushing forward, he took a shuddering breath when he was fully seated inside Akechi.

“Oh, shit,” he breathed out, letting his eyes slide shut. “You’re so tight.” 

He remained still for a moment, adjusting to the tight, wet warmth of Akechi’s ass, and leaned back on his heels, watching as the length of his dick slipped in and out in time with his movements. Last time, he’d had this view––albeit from a different angle––but seeing Akechi’s face made all the difference. It was scrunched up and pink, and sweat dripped down his forehead onto the pillow beneath.

Akechi’s legs wrapped around his hips, interrupting Akira’s inner thoughts. “Move,” he urged, heels digging into the small of Akira’s back. “You’re the leader of the Phantom Thieves, aren’t you? Don’t tell me that’s the best you’ve got.”

Akira only frowned, stroking Akechi’s sharp hipbones as he rocked down into his ass. He was going slowly, too slowly even for his own tastes, but he wanted to make Akechi so desperate he drooled for it, so hungry for more he begged. “Okay,” he said, planting soft kisses up the long line of Akechi’s neck. “But hold on a minute..”

Akechi didn’t reply, but he thrust his hips upwards into Akira’s dick, trying to take him deeper inside.

“Just be patient and wait, like I said before,” Akira said, pressing finger-shaped bruises into the subtle curve of Akechi’s waist. Memories of their last time together taunted him, urging him to be more commanding, but that wasn’t what he was looking for. Not this time, anyways.

Akechi’s head tossed to the side, teeth gritted. His body was trembling, but he obeyed, slowing to a stop. “Fuck,” he hissed, hands fisted in Akira’s sheets. “Fine.”

Leaning down to kiss him again, Akira started up again, hips grinding against Akechi’s so slowly it ached. It was hot––too hot to breathe, and his temples were moist with sweat––and Akechi’s skin was burning up beneath him. _This isn’t real,_ thought Akira, letting his eyes close as he bottomed out. _It’s some kind of fever dream._

The heat between them was building to its boiling point far too quickly for Akira’s liking, but it was impossible to hold off. It felt like they’d been waiting for this for years, and now that they had each other they were inextricably in each other’s orbit, unable to prolong their separation any longer.

“Akira, I’m––” Akechi whimpered, legs tightening around Akira’s waist. Red splotches pooled across his body, stretching from the harsh edge of his collarbone to the sparse hair on his stomach, and he was desperately stroking himself, hard dick twitching in his hands. “I’m about to––”

“Yeah, me too,” groaned Akira, quickening his hips. “C’mon, c’mon…”

Like lightning, Akira’s climax struck him suddenly, overwhelming his body with white-hot pleasure. He vaguely registered Akechi tightening around him and felt the telltale splatter of come against his chest, but his mind was spinning, exhaustion and satisfaction washing over him in waves. 

There was a moment when neither of them spoke and the room was silent save for the sound of their ragged breathing and vague rumblings from the city outside. Finally, Akira pulled out and slipped the condom off his dick, tossing it into the garbage can next to his nightstand. He was so tired, eyelids drooping shut unconsciously, and his muscles ached, begging him to sleep.

Akechi was sitting on the edge of the bed, body hidden by his white bedsheets. It was weird––he’d looked vibrant and alive mere minutes earlier, but now he seemed so drained, face thin and pale in the dimly-lit attic. “Aki––Kurusu-kun,” he said, stumbling over the name change. “I have to go home now.”

 _Right._ They weren’t fucking anymore, so everything was back to the way it was. Of course.

“Don’t bother,” Akira yawned, lumbering back to the bed. He plopped down next to Akechi, ignoring the way the other boy winced, and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. There were a few texts from Futaba, but he was too tired to respond now. Whatever it was could wait until the morning. “It’s late. You might as well stay over and leave in the morning. I can lend you my pajamas like last time, if you want.”

Akechi stood on wobbly legs, back to Akira. His shoulder blades jutted out and cast his body in sharp angles, made harsher by the moonlight filtering in through the window. “Okay,” he said, voice unreadable. “Give me a moment to clean myself up.”

Already half asleep, Akira waved him off, burrowing under his blankets. In his right mind he knew there were things he was supposed to be saying, but his energy was completely depleted. He could barely muster enough presence of mind to make room for someone else on the bed, let alone hold a life-changing conversation with Akechi.

A few minutes later, the bed dipped down with Akechi’s weight. Rolling over onto his side, Akira wrapped an arm around the other boy’s waist, drawing him close. He was warm––so warm, radiating seductive body heat––and the room was freezing, and though Akira knew he probably wasn’t supposed to keep his enemies so close he drifted off to sleep anyways, snuggling into the nape of Akechi’s neck.

Whatever consequences there were, they’d have to deal with them in the morning.

**~♡♡♡~**

Predictably, Akechi was gone when Akira woke up.

It wasn’t surprising in the least––it had happened the first time, too––but it still made Akira’s heart drop, disappointed despite himself. Hopefully Akechi had taken the opportunity to sleep and waited until the morning to leave, though Akira somewhat doubted that. It was too depressing to think of him braving the cold and waiting for the train alone, wearing only his thin uniform top, only to return to an empty apartment in some other neighborhood.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Akira fumbled around his nightstand for his phone. It was a Sunday, so his alarm was thankfully switched off, but he faintly remembered that there had been some texts left unread when he fell asleep last night. He had friends scattered across the city, and some of them sent him pretty urgent messages. If he missed a text from Iwai about Tsuda, for example, he’d be in some serious trouble.

He unlocked the phone, sitting up in bed to read the messages. They were from Futaba, and there was an oddly serious air about them, but before he could process any of them a call was flashing across his screen. That was weird––no one usually called him, especially not his teammates. They saw him often enough that it was almost never necessary. 

“Futaba?” he said, picking up the call. “I saw that you texted, but I didn’t get the chance to look at what you said yet. What’s up?”

“I’m outside Leblanc,” she replied through chattering teeth in lieu of answering. “Sojiro’s still asleep but I needed to talk to you and the stupid door’s locked. Can you let me in? I’m freezing!”

“Yeah,” said Akira, surprised. “Let me put on some slippers and I’ll be right down.”

Akira slipped out of bed, stepping into his soft slippers, and jogged down the stairs. If the phone call had been weird, the in-person visit was even weirder. Futaba hated waking up early and almost never ventured outside in the cold weather of her own volition. 

When he reached the downstairs area she was waiting in front of the door, wrapped up in a green hoodie and a knit black beanie. It was a departure from her usual shorts, but it made Akira feel a little bit better about making her wait in the cold. 

“Hey,” he greeted, opening the door to let her inside. “Sorry about that. I hope you weren’t waiting for long.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” she said, settling down in the booth near the TV. “I didn’t expect you to reply last night anyways.”

Akira reached outside to flip the sign––Sojiro would be pissed if he forgot––then sat across from her, resting his chin on his palms. “So what’s up? It must be something big if it dragged you out of bed in the morning.”

Futaba frowned, tapping her long nails against the table, and asked, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” he replied immediately, leaning back in his seat. “You wouldn’t be our navigator if I didn’t trust you, Futaba. We rely on you to––”

“That’s not what I meant,” she interrupted, frustration oozing into her tone. “I know you trust me as a teammate, but… We’re friends, right? Do you trust me as a friend?”

“Of course,” Akira repeated, brows furrowing in concern. “Is there anything we did to make you think we didn’t trust you?”

She let out a deep, annoyed sigh, and shook her head.  “This isn’t about the Phantom Thieves, Akira––it’s about _you_.” There was a moment when she didn’t say anything, before she finally burst out, “I just… I thought we were close, y’know? Why couldn’t you just tell me about Akechi?”

Akira’s stomach dropped. There were hundreds of things she could be referring to––his regular late night visits, maybe, or even some Palace information, though there was no information she wasn’t privy to––but he knew instantly what she meant.

“I had my suspicions when he first joined the team,” she continued, oblivious to Akira’s inner turmoil, “but I had nothing to back them up, so I just ignored them. But then… I was looking at the surveillance cameras a few weeks ago and I saw something.”

Though he’d been silent up to this point, Akira’s cheeks flushed a violent red at this admission. “Were you––did you _spy_ on us?”

“Not on purpose!” Futaba said quickly, cheeks going just as red. “I like to check in every once in a while and I _obviously_ didn’t watch the full thing, but I saw enough to know what was going on.”

 _That makes sense,_ Akira thought, ears ringing. Futaba monitored Sojiro often enough––of course it was possible that she had accidentally stumbled upon him and Akechi.

“And I’m supposed to be monitoring his texts, too, right?” she added, biting her lip. Her brown eyes were averted to a crack running through the table, pointedly not looking up at Akira. “I didn’t look at your conversations with him anymore because _ew,_ we’re practically related, but the night after the Palace I was worried something was going on with you, so I checked really quickly. The stuff you said to him was… intense.” 

“It’s not…” Akira gestured weakly to himself. “I just…”

Raising her gaze to meet his, she finally asked, “Akira, what’s going on between you and Akechi?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol  
> edit: a commenter pointed out that this fic keeps refreshing?? i’m editing slowly on ao3 and i’ve been having trouble with some of the features. the issue should be fixed now- sorry for any confusion.

**Author's Note:**

> brace yourselves:)


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